


I've Loved You Forever

by tenandi



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, An ineffable love story, Emotional Rollercoaster, Fluff and Smut, Inspired by 11th Doctor/River Song timeline, Inspired by A Time Traveler's Wife, Pining, Sad with a Happy Ending, Some descriptions of violence (not graphic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-13
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 33,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27167347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenandi/pseuds/tenandi
Summary: The tale of an involuntary time traveler and the ethereal love of his life.Anthony Crowley first met the angel in 1976, yet Aziraphale first met Crowley in 4000 BC. Throughout their confusing six-thousand year history, one thing has become certain: there must be a reason that they keep finding each other, over and over again…-"I travel through time and end up in random places. Except they aren’t so terribly random. It’s always where you are.”“Where I am?” the angel repeated.“Like a tether,” Crowley said softly. “You’re my constant."
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 77
Kudos: 137





	1. Aziraphale, 4000 BC - 30 AD

**Author's Note:**

> *This story flips back and forth between A & C's subjective timelines in chronological order. A handy guide at the end of each chapter will list Crowley’s travels by year and age as they unfold. You can go back and read the story again in order of his age to gain a different perspective.*
> 
> We start at the end, which is the beginning...

**4000 BC**

Aziraphale stiffened as he felt something materialize beside him. He turned swiftly, lifting his wing to observe the apparition, for an apparition it must be. She had created two humans, not three. Unlike Adam and Eve, this being wore a strange garment that barely clung to his body.

The figure was crouching on the ground, one hand to his chest as he gazed up, his golden-brown eyes struggling to perceive the ethereal being washed out by a newborn sun.

“Angel?” he choked.

Aziraphale bent down and squinted at the man, mystified. “Yes,” he replied. “What...what are you?” He cocked his head with interest as the man struggled to respond. His exposed skin was covered in liquid as red as his hair, and mottled with dark black and purple marks.

The redhead’s eyes fluttered open and closed. “It’s fitting I should end up here. The beginning.” He laughed mirthlessly.

The angel furrowed his brow before brightening. “The beginning...yes! The sixth day, to be exact.”

The man slumped back as if he couldn’t sit upright any longer. His head knocked against the stone wall that divided the garden from the rest of creation and Aziraphale became concerned.

“Are you alright?” he asked, fretting as he contemplated fetching the humans for help. He’d never seen anything suffer. She hadn’t invented the concept yet.

“I’m fine,” the redhead assured him. He smiled and faltered. Small droplets of water fell from his eyes.

The angel reached out and caught one of the jewels on his finger. “You don’t seem like it,” he argued. “You’re leaking!”

The man chuckled and choked back a sob at the same time. “It’s just...I can’t think of what to say. I don’t want it to be the end.”

Aziraphale was very confused. “It’s not! We just established that this is the beginning.”

“Of course,” the redhead replied, but didn’t sound very convincing. He was trembling slightly and it made the angel restless.

“I’m going to get Eve,” he said, but a hand on his forearm halted him. The blonde looked down at the wet, sticky fingers against his skin. The man had a strong smoky scent about him, mixed with something tinny.

“No,” the man wheezed, his grip tightening. “Stay with me. Please. I don’t know how much longer I have.”

“Do you have to go somewhere?” the angel asked.

The redhead blinked and nodded before biting his lower lip. He stared at the garden around them, marveling at the perfection of the sanctuary as he choked back tears. “It’s more beautiful than I ever imagined.” He coughed and choked while the angel tried to comfort him.

“You’re a being of love,” the man said when he could speak again.

“I am,” Aziraphale asserted proudly.

“So you can feel it, can’t you? It’s all around you,” the man cried piteously. “All the time.”

The angel smiled serenely at him. “Yes.”

“Can you feel mine?” the man pleaded, his breaths softening.

Something tickled on the edges of the angel’s consciousness and he gasped, flung back as he reacted to a shock of overwhelming feeling, but the sensation fled as quickly as it came. He opened his eyes and saw only empty space before him. The man...or whatever he was, had simply vanished.

Aziraphale looked down at his arm to see the smeared red stains the man had left behind. It was the only evidence he’d ever been there at all.

**3004 BC**

“Aziraphale! Fancy meeting you here!”

The angel turned at the sound of his name and his jaw dropped. The redheaded man from the garden was swaggering up to him, dressed as a female servant.

“It’s you!” he stated rather obviously before snapping his mouth shut to stop gaping. “How do you know my name?”

The redhead’s devious smile abandoned him. “You say that like we’ve never met before.”

Aziraphale huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s been some time ago but I’d remember if I’d offered my name. What are you doing here?” He reached out with his angelic energy to scan for any signs of evil, but found none.

“Just...checking things out,” the man answered hesitantly. “I heard some guys talking down at the tavern.” He pointed toward the large building project taking place before them. “Moses, right?”

“Who?” the angel blinked.

“Or Jonah? There’s too many waterworks in the Bible,” the man said to himself.

“What’s the Bible?” Aziraphale pressed.

“Uhhhhh,” the redhead uttered. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Who are you?” the angel demanded, tiring of their bizarre conversation.

“Oh, right.” The man looked pained. “Anthony J. Crowley. Just Crowley’s fine.”

“I see,” the blonde pondered to himself. “Why do you have so many names?”

Crowley cringed and waved the topic away. “No reason. I see I’m just in time for...for whatever this is. I have no idea, obviously.”

“Noah is building an ark,” Aziraphale explained. “It’s said that She’s sending a great flood to cleanse the earth of sin.”

Crowley watched as pairs of animals were marched into a temporary barn. His lower lip wavered before popping out. “Too bad they can’t fit everything on that boat.”

“Well that’s rather the point,” the angel offered.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed angrily. “The animals.The plants. All the people. Think about it, angel! Even the kids will drown!”

Aziraphale started and it was obvious he’d never considered the actual ramifications. “Oh,” he said, eyes widening. He looked away and cleared his throat. “You seem very concerned with their lot. It almost makes you sound like one of them. A human, I mean.” He’d known several now with exceptionally long life spans, but over a thousand years was pushing it.

“What else would I be? An aardvark?” Crowley said irritably.

Aziraphale started to open his mouth but the redhead interrupted. “Nevermind.”

“Well...if you’re just a regular, typical human male, perhaps you can answer one simple question for me?” the angel posited. Crowley lifted his eyes to the heavens.

“Go on.”

“Why are you dressed like a woman?”

Crowley batted his lashes as he looked down, gently lifting the black fabric of his tunic. “Am I?”

Aziraphale shook his head. “You really don’t know? Where are you from?”

The redhead stuttered for a moment. “Uhhh London. Tiny...village. You wouldn’t know it. Our um...customs are very different there.” It didn’t sound particularly convincing, but Aziraphale let it go. Something else floated back from his memory in its stead.

“You were hurt!” he suddenly accused, eyes scanning over Crowley’s body. “I didn’t know what it was at the time, but I understand now that you were injured. You’ve healed up then?”

The redhead looked at him with barely disguised bewilderment. “Erm...right. Did I look that bad? Last time we met?” Aziraphale could see the concern in his eyes.

“Well...yes, actually. You looked like you had one foot in the grave. You don’t remember?”

Crowley chuckled lamely. “Course I remember. Just uh...checking.” He cleared his throat and looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the topic. The conversation died down, and Aziraphale turned his attention back to the ark. The boat was large, but not to the extent of holding the entire human and animal population.

“They’re running out of time. I hope it will be enough,” he said. “I heard She’s going to send something called a Rain Bow as a promise to never do it again.”

Crowley chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah. That’ll make up for it.”

Aziraphale swiveled his head to chastise the redhead, but Crowley was already gone.

**1450 BC**

Aziraphale was walking through the market when he saw Crowley lurking in an alley between two buildings. The man was half naked with nothing more than a wrap around his waist.

“Crowley!” he hissed as he approached. “How is this possible? There is no way you could have survived all this time if you were human! And don’t give me that aardvark nonsense!”

The redhead blinked in confusion. “Aardvark?” He shook his head. “Listen angel, I need your help. I wasn’t exactly prepared to deal with this today, though I never am I guess. Do you think you could spare a tiny miracle to get me some appropriate attire?”

“First tell me what you are!” Aziraphale demanded. “This shouldn’t be possible.” Looking closer, the redhead appeared even younger than the last time they’d met.

“I’m human,” Crowley insisted. “A traveler. Is this..is this the first time I’m explaining it to you?” He hummed and started counting on his fingers while the angel looked on.

“Humans don’t live for thousands of years!” Aziraphale hissed.

“No, not typically. Thousands? When are we?” Crowley glanced around and squinted at their surroundings. “Are those the pyramids?”

“I’m going to need an explanation that’s not constantly punctuated by inarticulate nonsense,” the angel said, tapping his foot in irritation. Crowley gave him an obvious once over.

“So cute when you’re tetchy,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “Look, I can give you a proper explanation. Mind if we pop in somewhere more private?” He tugged on his towel and the angel relented, waving him into a miraculously empty tent nearby.

“Well?” Aziraphale demanded.

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to believe me.”

“Try me,” the angel persisted.

The redhead snorted. “Yeah, right. Heard that one before. Okay, so I’m a traveler, like I said. I go to all types of different places, but not the way one usually does.”

Aziraphale shook his head emphatically. “What does that mean?”

“It’s time,” Crowley attempted to clarify. “Time and space, technically. I don’t choose it. I can’t control it. But I go all the same. I’m just sitting somewhere, right? Trying to live my ordinary life and then...poof! I find myself in some random place hundreds or even thousands of years in the past. Sometimes it’s only a few decades... It’s rarely in order so it’s hard to keep track of everything.”

“You travel through time...” the angel deadpanned. “How?”

“I have absolutely no idea.” Aziraphale laughed outright and Crowley frowned. “Why do I even bother? You won’t accept it until the Crucifixion anyways.”

“That nasty trend started by the Bablyonians? Who’s getting crucified?” Aziraphale fretted.

Crowley quickly changed the subject. “You asked and I answered. Honestly. I travel through time and end up in random places. Except they aren’t so terribly random. It’s always where you are.”

“Where I am?” the angel repeated.

“Like a tether,” Crowley said softly. “You’re my constant. Listen, um...there’s a lot I know about you and the future, but I might not always. It depends on where I’m at in my timeline when we meet. It helps when you give me updates. We compare notes and go from there.”

Aziraphale shook his head in disbelief. “This is insane. I’m not playing along with it.”

The redhead sighed and scrubbed at the sandy ground with his bare toes. “I wish you were here to knock some sense into yourself," he muttered. "Would make my life so much easier.”

“I am here,” Aziraphale objected.

Crowley laughed. “I know, I just...nevermind. Have you thought about that miracle at least?” He gestured to his bare chest hopefully.

The blonde tutted. “It’s hardly worth it. You’re just going to perform your vanishing act again.”

The redhead frowned. “I can’t control that!” he whined. “I might be here for a week or months for all I know!”

“I see,” Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley exhaled slowly. He wasn’t going to get any help here.

The angel batted his lashes sweetly. “Well, since you’re obviously an expert in surviving such difficult situations, I’m sure you’ll come through this one with flying colors as well.” He stood up and walked out of the tent, leaving Crowley to figure out the clothing situation on his own.

-

Crowley tried to keep his head down during the plagues that followed. The water turning to blood was patently disgusting yet avoidable, but the frogs, which were on the menu days later, were proving almost impossible to bypass. He carefully stepped over the hopping menaces on his way to the tavern, hoping to barter for a drink. On his way he nearly walked past the angel, who was currently blessing a young girl with a dreadful case of  batrachophobia .

“Oh,” Aziraphale frowned as he caught sight of him. “You again.”

“Me again,” the redhead agreed with a charming smile. “And again, and again, and well...you’ll get the point eventually.”

“I’d prefer if you moved along,” the angel said brusquely. “I’ve just had a memo from head office that these plagues are only going to get worse, and I can’t deal with your fabrications on top of everything else.”

“Fabrications?” Crowley spat. “All I’ve done is tell you the truth!”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale returned. “I’ve absolutely no reason to believe anything you say.”

“Let’s not row,” Crowley said, pinching his nose. “I hate when we row. Just come inside with me. Have a drink. If you get to know me you’ll see I’m not half-bad. You might even come to like me a little.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

The angel bristled. “I doubt that very much.”

“Then grow to dislike me more, I don’t care!” Crowley argued. “But at least give me a chance. Wouldn’t that be the righteous thing to do? _Angel_?”

Aziraphale hesitated. “I suppose so,” he said reluctantly.

Crowley flashed him a brilliant smile and dragged him inside the tavern. “Good. You can translate for me.”

“You sound perfectly articulate to me,” the angel huffed.

“Again, you’re an angel, so you automatically filter languages without even thinking about it. I’m a human, and I have not, nor ever will I learn to speak ancient Egyptian.”

“Ancient?” Aziraphale asked.

“Just tell them I’d like whatever passes for alcohol around here.”

They sat down and a serving girl came by, quickly pouring a few draughts for the pair. Crowley downed half of his before sitting back and sighing. “It’s been a long week,” he groaned. “I had to steal my kit off a clothing line from a rather angry-looking laundress. It’s not like I’m a history buff either, which I know, _I know_ I need to study up, but in the absence of actual knowledge I had to take a few educated guesses.” He gestured to his clothing and Aziraphale tilted his head.

“You’re dressed like a fish monger,” the angel noted.

“I can deal with that!” Crowley said happily. “Time traveling requires that you blend in best you can. The consequences if you don’t are not pretty.”

Aziraphale remembered how Crowley had been wearing women’s clothing the last time they’d met. “You have a very odd way about you,” he noted.

“Well, I suppose it doesn’t help that everything in the future is so different. Our slang, our customs, our clothing. I could tell you loads of things about it, but you’d never believe me.”

“Go right ahead,” Aziraphale said placidly as a frog storm began to fall outside the window. “I could use a break from the mundane.”

Crowley narrowed his eyes. “Well for instance...humans travel into space.”

“That doesn’t sound unreasonable,” the angel replied. “What do they do there?”

The redhead faltered. “L-land on the moon. Pick up some rocks… But we came up with a bunch of other brilliant stuff too! Techy things like the internet, IMAX movie screens, cars…”

Aziraphale didn’t look impressed, so Crowley pivoted with an annoyed look on his face. It would be much too difficult to explain any of those advances.

“We have adorable little shops with delicious pastries.”

“Ooh!” the angel perked up. “That sounds lovely!”

“Just wait til they invent the crepe,” he added. He mimed something happening to his head while making a whooshing sound, but it was lost on the angel.

“I suppose you know my future as well,” Aziraphale conceded.

“A bit, yeah,” Crowley replied. He looked down at his cup and smiled. “I was only five years old when I first met you.”

The angel frowned. “No. You were a grown man. Older than you are now, however one might try to explain it.”

“For you I was, then. Or will be. I haven’t lived it yet. It was different for me,” the redhead explained. “Time travel is tricky.”

“This is all very amusing,” Aziraphale muttered. “But I think I’m going to put an end to this nonsense now. I should be attending to my duties, not entertaining your wild fantasies.”

“Sure,” Crowley grinned to himself. “Of course. See you around, angel.”

Aziraphale walked out of the tavern without a glance back.

-

Aziraphale continued to see Crowley over the next millennium, but never for extended periods. Once Crowley popped up at the dedication of King Soloman’s temple, while in 425 BC he appeared to be aiding Nehemiah in the restoration of Jerusalem’s walls. Of those few occasions, Crowley merely waved at the angel and went about his business, but it was Anno Domini when everything changed.

**30 AD**

Aziraphale watched in horror as the son of God was driven down the road to Golgotha, dragging the instrument of his own execution. The angel stood behind a fenced barrier, forced to bear witness rather than intervene. It wasn’t the first time he’d questioned Her will or the Great Plan, but it was easily the most potent test of his faith to date.

A small hand slipped into his own and the angel looked down. A child, perhaps ten years old, was gazing up into his face.

“Why does She let it happen, Zira?” he asked.

Aziraphale’s composure cracked as he stared down into the golden-brown eyes of a boy who couldn’t be mistaken for anyone else.

“Crowley,” he managed, still trying to catch his breath.

The boy’s eyes began to tear up and he squished his face into the angel’s side. “I don’t want to be here!” he cried. “I didn’t want to come!”

Wails punctuated the air as the crucifixions began, and Aziraphale was quick to scoop Crowley into his arms, carrying him from the scene. Once they were far away, he set the boy down and wiped the tears from his freckled cheeks.

“How is this possible?” the angel whispered to himself, if not to Her directly.

Crowley’s face contorted into anger. “You said She’s supposed to take care of us! All of us! You said She does good things! Beautiful things!” He pointed back to where they’d come and raged. “You’re a liar!”

“Cr-Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed, trying to regain rational thought. “I’m sorry. I...I don’t know what’s happening.”

“She’s letting him die!” Crowley screamed. “She’s killing him and you’re not doing anything about it!”

Something about the charged emotional state of the mysterious boy in front of him, coupled with the overwhelming sorrow Aziraphale already felt began to send him into a panic. “I don’t understand any of it!” he shouted. “How are you here? Why are you a child?”

Crowley shrank back, looking frightened.

“I demand you tell me what you are!” the angel roared. His wings manifested on either side of him while his holy form unleashed. His anger blotted out the sun while simultaneously blinding the boy in front of him.

Crowley let out a piercing scream and ran. He’d barely gone ten steps when Aziraphale recovered, falling to the ground in shame at what he’d done.

“Wait! Crowley!” he called, but it was too late. The redhead had disappeared amongst the hills, leaving Aziraphale to deal with his actions alone.

The angel sat there for a long time, alternating between guilt and sadness. As his mind worked through the events of the day he found himself opening to a new state of awareness. Of everything possible and impossible. Of Her divine mystery. Of plans that no one else could understand. And what if Crowley was part of it all? Not as a demon or a menace to be reckoned with, but a person who was stuck in the bewildering dark just like the angel himself. He’d never forget the face of a scared little boy who had turned to him for comfort in a time of need and been utterly rejected. He swore that he’d never let Crowley down like that again.

“Traveler,” he whispered.

-

_ Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference _

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10) CH.1**

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33) CH.1**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47) CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48) CH.1**

  
  


  
  



	2. Crowley, 1976-1989 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This will go up fast. It's already written.

**1976 AD**

Aziraphale waited around the rundown neighborhood, trying to remember if it was the right one. He was sure Crowley had said his house was on Ufford Street, but that had been nearly a decade ago. Time...the concept was nearly laughable now. He’d been on the planet for five millennia and everything kept changing while somehow remaining the same. He looked down at his pocket watch and noted the hour. School had let out and the busses would be arriving soon. Sure enough, one pulled up to the corner and children spilled out onto the pavement. A scrawny looking redhead was among them.

Aziraphale fell into step at a courteous distance, not wanting to alarm the boy. He watched as Crowley skipped over the remnants of a hopscotch rubric and stopped to observe a rather large worm on the sidewalk.

The angel walked past him before turning around.

“Oh, there’s a great big bugger,” he harrumphed.

Crowley glanced up at him. “Yeah. I think he’s dead.”

Aziraphale leaned in. “Is he?” With the snap of his fingers, the nightcrawler began to squirm and burrowed back into the earth.

Crowley looked back up at the stranger and frowned suspiciously. “Did you do that?”

“That depends. Do you believe in miracles?” the angel asked.

Crowley straightened up and adjusted his backpack. “You mean like magic? Mum says it doesn’t exist. She says I make up stories.”

“Stories?” Aziraphale asked. “Like when you travel to places you don’t mean to?”

The redhead froze. “How’d you know about that?”

“Why, you told me all about it,” the angel smiled. “Long ago...when you were much older.”

Crowley examined Aziraphale before deciding to accept him. The angel wiggled his fingers and the boy clasped them with his own small hand.

“Do come along dear,” Aziraphale said. “We have so much to talk about.”

-

Mrs. Crowley did not remember hiring a gardener, yet there was one puttering about in her perennials. She’d have to ask her husband about it one of these days, but she seemed to forget each time she saw him. She started drying the dishes and focused on the radio, which was playing the song she liked best.

Her son was sitting outside under the shade of a large apple tree, watching as Aziraphale worked.

“So the reason we don’t live in the garden is because of some fruit?” he asked petulantly.

The angel chuckled to himself. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes.”

“Why not put the tree somewhere else?” Crowley insisted. “Like the moon?”

“Because humans need to be able to choose for themselves,” Aziraphale answered. He plucked a few dead leaves from the struggling shrub. “It’s about free will.”

“I’m human, but I don’t get to choose,” the redhead lamented. The angel didn’t need to ask what he meant.

“She works in mysterious ways,” he replied absently. As if anyone could even begin to fathom the logic of bestowing time travel onto a defenseless human child...

“I think I’d like the garden,” Crowley pivoted. “Was it very pretty like yours?”

Aziraphale surveyed his handiwork and frowned. “Certainly not. It was vastly superior. I think I have a black thumb.”

Crowley giggled and went back to counting ants as they marched through the lawn.

**1979 AD**

Crowley was in no mood for clarinet practice. He was currently hiding under his bed as his mother searched through the house.

“Come out here you little demon!” she hissed. “I pay good money for those lessons and you’re not going to waste your potential!”

Crowley cringed and shrank further into the far side of the wall. He was surprised when he met supple resistance instead.

“Angel!” he whispered. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking in,” Aziraphale replied. “I’m sorry I haven’t been around lately. My, it’s cramped under here. What are we up to, hmm?”

Crowley hung his head. “Mum wants me to go to clarinet but I don’t want to.”

“Ah,” the angel replied. “I believe we’ve talked about this before. The formation of positive habits leads to a-”

“Healthy and functional mind,” Crowley filled in robotically. “I guess.”

“So you’ll go then,” the angel said with certainty.

Crowley groaned and hauled himself out from under the bed. “I’m not happy about this,” he informed his guardian.

“Noted,” Aziraphale smiled. “Pip pip!”

**1981 AD**

Aziraphale was reading a book in the backyard when Crowley disappeared. At first he thought the boy had simply gone inside, but a sinking feeling in his gut told him that it was more insidious. He clucked his tongue nervously and bided his time.

“Wherever you are, find me,” he prayed. He might have wished for something else if he could have connected the dots, but being an ethereal five-thousand year old had its disadvantages, such as wavering memory recall.

Not ten minutes later, the boy rematerialized and Aziraphale ran over to him. He reached out to grab his shoulder and Crowley flinched away, his face ashen and covered in tears.

“Don’t touch me!” he cried out.

“What is it darling?” Aziraphale asked, beside himself. He’d never seen the boy so upset.

“Just leave me alone!” Crowley screamed. “You’re a liar! Liar, liar, liar!” He jumped up and began to beat against the angel’s legs.

Aziraphale easily arrested him, pulling Crowley into a tight hug to let him sob it out. Once the boy quieted, the angel drew the inevitable conclusion.

“You were in Golgotha,” he realized. “The day Jesus was killed.”

The redhead sniffled and nodded his head, but refused to remove his face from the angel’s chest.

“I was very frightened that day,” Aziraphale explained. “I didn’t know you very well at the time and you scared me. I didn’t understand...I didn’t believe you could time travel until then. I was terrible to you. What that must have looked like to a little boy…”

“I’m a big boy!” Crowley objected, making the angel chuckle.

“Yes you are,” Aziraphale agreed. “But angels can be very intimidating when they want to be. I’m very sorry I did that to you. Can you forgive me?”

Crowley shifted and pulled back. His eyes were swollen and his cheeks were two red patches. “I forgive you,” he agreed.

“Thank you my darling,” Aziraphale said, kissing the top of his head.

**1986 AD**

Aziraphale was in his book shop when the bell rang.

“We’re closed!” he called out. He’d just made a nice cup of tea and was getting ready to settle down with a good book. When he heard no response, he huffed and walked to the front.

Crowley was standing by the entrance with a smug grin.

“Oh, good lord!” Aziraphale let out. “Look at the state of your hair!”

Crowley turned in a circle to show off the spiked green mohawk and pointed to his nose. “That’s not all!”

“And a piercing?” the angel groaned. “No. No. Absolutely not! I am going to miracle you back to normal-”

“Noooo! Zira!” Crowley whined. “Don’t, please? It looks so cool!”

“Cool?” Aziraphale attempted, as if trying to grasp the concept. “There is nothing cool about it.” He stood there tapping a brogue angrily on the floor with his hands on his hips.

“Whatever,” Crowley giggled. “At least I don’t live like I’m in the 1800s.” He patted the angel’s ancient Victrola and came away with a palmful of dust.

“The 19th century was very cool!” Aziraphale informed him. “Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll get to see for yourself one day.”

Crowley wrinkled his nose. “You don’t say...name three ‘cool’ things about it.”

The angel puffed up haughtily. “The art and literature, those count as one. The fashion, obviously, as evidenced by my favorite coat. And the music! It was phenomenal! Chopin and Stravinsky-”

“Music you can’t dance to,” Crowley interrupted.

“There was other music for dancing,” the angel pursed his lips and Crowley noted the dreamy look on his face.

“Such as?”

Aziraphale hesitated, looking nervous. “Why are you asking me? Angels don’t dance,” he laughed.

“Right,” Crowley smirked. “I should go. I’m going to be late. I’ve got a date tonight!”

“A date?” Aziraphale asked, scandalized. “You're too young to be dating!”

“Oh my God,” Crowley groaned. “You sound just like my parents, angel. Chill out.” He pushed back against the door and began to sing an off-key version of a rude punk song until Aziraphale shooed him out.

“Teenagers!” the angel harrumphed.

**1987 AD**

Crowley was lying on his bed when Aziraphale knocked at his door, disrupting a particularly ugly crying fit.

“Are you alright, my dear?” the angel asked. The redhead sat up and rubbed his eyes. If it had been anyone else he would have told them to sod off.

“Come in, angel!” he called. He coughed to clear the phlegm out of his throat and smiled weakly at the blonde. Aziraphale noted his distress and came over to pull him into a hug.

“Tell me what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

Crowley wanted to laugh about how stupid it was. His first heartbreak was hardly something to be dramatic about. He’d only liked the boy he’d met at the skating rink for a few weeks. They’d hung out a handful of times and rolled around together, sharing fries and playing in the arcade. But earlier that evening Crowley had shown up and saw the boy skating with someone else.

“It’s nothing,” Crowley snorted. “Just stupid...feelings. Hurts.”

Aziraphale squeezed him tightly and Crowley relaxed into the pleasant scent of old books and tea. There was something else there as well. Apparently the angel was experimenting with a new cologne.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” the blonde said.

Crowley nodded. Aziraphale made to move away but the redhead grabbed his hand and kept him there.

“You'll always be here, won't you angel?” he asked.

Aziraphale laughed. “I should hope so. My duties on earth have kept me here a long time. Though, I suppose head office could always change their plans.”

Crowley sank against his side and hummed. “I want you to stay forever. I need you to, Zira. No one else understands me. Or even tries.”

The angel used his free hand to pat the boy on the back. “Oh, I’m certain that will change. One day you’ll meet someone special. Someone who loves you more than you could imagine. You’ll see.”

“But I’ve already met someone special,” Crowley protested, looking at the blonde meaningfully.

“Ah,” the angel chuckled. “That’s not exactly what I meant. When you grow up, I mean...oh well...you’ll understand it better one day. Suffice to say you won't make your way in this world alone.”

Crowley melted a little more at those words and finally allowed Aziraphale to disentangle himself.

“Thanks,” the redhead said softly.

**1988 AD**

Crowley had more than his fair share of secrets as a seventeen year-old time traveler with an angel for a best friend. Perhaps the most embarassing was the one he kept from Aziraphale. As he’d grown up, Crowley thought of the angel as a superhero, a mentor, and above all, his greatest confidant. But growing up also asserted a new range of feelings that the teen was hesitant to admit grew stronger every day.

He found himself daydreaming about marrying the angel. At first it was just a childish inclination, the same way toddlers innocently say they’ll marry their mum. But as Crowley matured the fantasy grew with him. It became a crush that turned to full-blown infatuation.

Crowley knew intrinsically that he was enamored with a near-deity more than a few thousand years older than he was, but he acknowledged it about as much as a teeny-bopper being head over heels for grown men in “boy” bands. So what else was he to do but linger about the bookshop at all hours, begging for the angel’s attention?

“Hey Zira,” he called out as he strolled into the shop like he owned the place. He threw his backpack on the sofa and sprawled out across it as the blonde worked at his desk. He was wearing those funny spectacles that made Crowley roll his eyes and swoon at the same time.

“How was school?” Aziraphale asked, gaze focused intently on a spine he was mending.

“Stupid,” Crowley replied. “Scott pushed me while we were in gym so I set his shorts on fire. I got suspended again.” He snorted and examined his walkman, rewinding the Queen tape he’d nearly worn out.

“You should be focusing on your studies, not the other boys,” the angel advised.

Crowley saw his opening and took it. “How can I help it when some of them are so distracting?” He let his words linger until Aziraphale took the bait.

“Are there other bullies bothering you?” he asked, eyes finally drifting from his work.

The redhead simpered and twirled a finger in his long red hair. After graduating from his punk phase he’d moved right into a Bon Jovi-inspired look. “Not bullies,” he said. “Just boys in general.”

The angel looked vacantly at him, not comprehending.

“Like crushes or whatever,” Crowley groaned and sank down into the cushions, trying to disappear. “Nevermind.”

Aziraphale turned back to his work and hummed to himself.

“Do you still think I’m too young to date?” the redhead piped up, his cheeks blazing hot.

“You’re nearly eighteen,” the angel replied. “And if your parents approve I hardly see the problem. Soon you’ll be thinking about all the fun things that come with adulthood. Going off to university, establishing a career for yourself, paying your taxes…”

Crowley heaved an affected sigh. “I don’t think you understand what the word 'fun' means,” he grumbled. “I’m more interested in like...trying stuff...with other guys.” He’d snogged a few in his time but hadn’t gained the courage to go any further.

The angel had started humming again and abruptly stopped. “I hardly think I should consult you on that matter. Perhaps you’d best speak with your mother.”

“I don’t want to talk to her about it! It’s embarrassing!” Crowley fought back. “I mean like...you’ve been around for more than a few millennia. Why can’t you tell me what you know?”

“What I know…” Aziraphale hesitated, obviously trying to avoid the question. “What I know is that when two humans love each other very much they-”

“No!” Crowley howled. “That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it!”

“I’m sorry my dear,” the angel sputtered, “but angels aren’t like humans. We don’t...associate in that way. To even attempt it we’d have to...make an effort.” He looked down at his folded hands.

“So angels don’t love?” Crowley asked, face stricken.

Aziraphale huffed. “Of course we love! We are beings _of love_. I daresay I know more about that topic than you can ever fully imagine. I can sense it everywhere, you know...”

“But you don’t express it,” the redhead countered. “What’s the point, then?”

“I’m sure I don’t take your meaning,” Aziraphale tutted. “Angels were made for entirely different purposes than humans! We’re here to protect, and guide, and nurture. Nothing more.”

“So does that mean...you’ll never fall in love?” Crowley asked. He stared up at the angel with wide, weary eyes.

“Ha!” Aziraphale let out weakly. “Imagine that! What nonsense.”

Crowley grabbed his bookbag and stood abruptly. “That’s bullshit!”

“What?” the angel looked terribly confused. “What’s gotten into you, Crowley? I really don’t see what the problem is-”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Crowley spat. “And that’s exactly my point.”

He fled the shop before Aziraphale could do anything else, and stormed out into the pouring rain. He hit ‘play’ on his walkman and tried to drown out the agonized screams in his own mind. Of course he couldn’t really hold anything against Aziraphale for being an angel, but the thought that he was incapable of having any kind of romantic inclination was beyond the boy.

“He just doesn’t want to!” he growled angrily as he stomped from puddle to puddle. “He doesn’t think humans are worth it. Because we just flicker out and die and he lives forever. Why would he even bother?” It wasn’t fair.

-

Crowley distracted himself from his impossible crush by meeting new people, though not always the most inoffensive. He made friends at the clubs, bars, and music halls, working out his adolescent frustrations the only way he knew how. As he neared his eighteenth birthday, the angel started pressuring him to refocus on getting into a proper university.

“Tell me again why I should,” he sassed, throwing a skeptical glance at the blonde.

Aziraphale was trying to sort his library and failing miserably. Even he couldn’t figure out the organizational system he’d put in place. He let out an exasperated sigh and tried again beginning with the first editions.

“Because it determines the course of your future, for one.”

Crowley smirked. “What does that matter? I’m a time traveler.”

“It’s still coming whether you like it or not,” the angel called out as he walked toward the back of the shop. “And you’ll need something to occupy yourself with between trips!”

The redhead snuck over to the piles Aziraphale had been working on and mixed up more than a few volumes. If only the angel knew the fault in his system came from without. Creeping back to his armchair, Crowley sat down and affected an expression of innocence just in time.

“How am I supposed to pass my courses or finish papers when I’m getting sporadically sucked away to random places?” the redhead asserted.

“What the devil?” the angel muttered to himself as he examined his books with both hands on his hips. “Listen, Crowley, part of being an adult is living in the adult world. That means accepting responsibility like furthering your education and getting a job. It’ll be good for you! Builds moral character!”

“Oh, gee whiz!” Crowley snarked. “That sounds peachy!”

Aziraphale pursed his lips and turned toward the redhead. “Crowley have you been messing with my things?”

“No,” Crowley said a little too quickly. “Swear on the Bible.”

The angel winced. Crowley had been a staunch atheist (despite all evidence to the contrary) since he was ten years old.

“Like it or not,” Aziraphale went on, “The time has come for you to spread your wings. And don’t worry about a thing, my dear. I’m sure it’s all going to be rather lovely.”

-

_ Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference _

_**Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *** _

**1971 Crowley is born**

**1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2**

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1**

**1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2** ****

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1**

  
  



	3. Aziraphale, 41-1601 AD

**41 AD**

“Crowley!” the angel’s eyes widened as he recognized the redhead sitting at the bar. “Oh dear,” he instantly frowned. “You really shouldn’t wear that. It’s for special occasions and emperors, you know.” He pointed at the laurel crown on Crowley’s head and the redhead scowled.

“Maybe this is a special occasion!” he groused. He slugged down a cup of mead and burped.

“I assume you pilfered it,” Aziraphale said nervously. “Best not get caught with it.” He snapped his fingers and the ridiculous crown disappeared.

Crowley threw back another cup and the angel squirmed. “Should you be drinking so much, or so quickly?”

The redhead laughed. “Course! It’s my twenty-first birthday. Gotta celebrate somehow. I just got yanked away from my own party. Was having a great time, too.”

“Is that what has you in such a sour mood?” Aziraphale asked.

“Yeah. What else? Come drink with me, Zira. I haven’t seen you in ages. Apparently I have to go back in time just to borrow some of yours.”

The angel sat next to the redhead rather delicately, careful to keep his hands on the bar. “That’s funny. I just ran into you. About eleven years ago.”

“Huh,” Crowley said disinterestedly. “It’s like I was just here for you then. When is this, anyways? I picked up on the Rome bit but…”

Aziraphale withered. “Forty-one years after... after the death of Christ.”

Crowley’s fingers, which were previously drumming on the bar, stilled immediately. “Oh. Right.”

“I did want to speak with you about that-”

“You will,” Crowley finished for him. “It’s nothing to worry about. Listen, I’m starving. I’ve been drinking all night, well...all day now and I could use a bite. Got any ideas?”

The angel brightened considerably. “I heard Petronius does remarkable things with oysters!”

“Lead the way,” Crowley smiled.

-

“How can you never have eaten an oyster?” Aziraphale fussed. He prepared his own before slurping it down, and the redhead nearly gagged.

“That’s why,” he admitted. “Just can’t deal with the slimy part.”

“It’s not slimy!” the angel objected. “It’s a delicacy!”

“More for you then,” Crowley countered.

Aziraphale sampled a few more from the serving dish before turning his attention to the redhead. “So what are you up to these days?”

“Not much,” Crowley said, scratching his head. “Just school, really.”

“Oh, really?” the angel chirped. “But that’s wonderful! Furthering your education-”

“Builds moral character, yes I know,” Crowley cut him off. “You’ve told me a thousand times.”

“Have I?” Aziraphale reflected. “Oh, but of course you mean in the future. Well I’m glad my words have stuck with you either way.”

Crowley leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Everything you say sticks with me. I swear you occupy half of my mind sometimes.” He blushed and lurched forward, sticking his fingers in the serving dish. “Uh, maybe I will try one of these.”

He titled his head and swallowed the oyster in one go. When he looked back at the angel he was waiting expectantly.

“Well?”

“S’not terrible,” Crowley admitted. “But I couldn’t bring myself to chew.” He relaxed again and Aziraphale turned around to see if anyone else was listening.

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” he confided. “I think it’s rather important. It’s about you and me and the Great Plan.”

“The Great Plan!” Crowley repeated grandly. “You’ve um, mentioned that before, but what do I have to do with it?”

“Everything!” Aziraphale insisted. He leaned in and began to whisper. “I think your special ability might stem from Her divine intervention.” He winked at the man before reclining, looking very pleased with himself.

“Uh…” Crowley said articulately. “Like a gift from God? No offense angel, but I’d like to return it as soon as possible. Do you have any idea how many times I was nearly murdered just showing up in the wrong place at the wrong time? How is that a blessing?”

“Not everything is so easily understood,” the angel replied. “I’ve fathomed Her decisions countless times-”

“Questioned,” Crowley corrected.

“Wondered,” Aziraphale negotiated, placing his palms on the table. “Not that my opinions count for anything, but I have started to think that there must be a reason for all of this. Something that She is guiding us toward.”

“She can go to Hell for all I care,” Crowley snapped, and the angel whipped around like he’d been slapped.

“You shall not blaspheme!” the angel gasped.

The redhead scrutinized the ethereal being in front of him for a moment. “Wow. And I thought you had a stick up your arse in the future.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that,” Aziraphale scolded him. “But I intend to follow this line of thought to its conclusion.”

Crowley’s eyes softened as he looked at the blonde. “Of course you will. You’re the most stubborn being I know.”

“Hmm,” Aziraphale responded. “You make that sound like a good thing.”

“You’re an angel,” Crowley countered. “Everything about you is a good thing.”

“Hm,” he conceded, wiggling contentedly.

**537 AD**

Aziraphale tried to use his shield to part the mist, but it was too heavy. He sighed, moving slowly through the dense forest and nearly running into a tree around every turn. He’d been tracking the scourge known as the black knight for days, but this time he knew he was hot on his trail. A burned village not a few miles away indicated that he was moving straight toward him.

His suspicions were confirmed when a trio of blackguards emerged from the forest, surrounding him. Aziraphale withdrew his sword and brandished it above his head.

“Don’t test your fate,” he warned. “I’m in no mood today.”

One of the men lunged forward and Aziraphale parried only to swiftly strike back, sending a brutal cut down one shoulder. The other two apparently didn’t want to end up the same, and ran away swiftly. The angel stared at the fallen man before rolling his eyes in annoyance. One quick miracle later, he was on his way with the others.

Aziraphale was beginning to get annoyed. His armor was heavy and water had seeped into his boots, making his feet cold. And he would have addressed the problem but he was trying to keep his miracles to a limit after a particularly nasty memo from head office. Apparently he’d gone overboard during the fall of Rome.

Bearing that in mind, he nearly turned on his heel and abandoned his quest, but it was then that a shadowy figure appeared before him.

“State your name!” the angel demanded.

“Er…” the dreaded black knight replied.

Aziraphale fiddled with his visor before lifting it away to examine his foe. The knight was barely armored, having managed to don his mail, helmet, and breastplate with little else to complement them.

“You’re not the black knight!” he challenged.

The man before him chuckled before shucking his helmet to the ground, revealing the familiar, time-traveling redhead.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale beamed.

“Hey Aziraphale,” he returned. “Help a bloke with his armor?”

The angel hustled over and observed the sad state of Crowley’s attempt to dress himself. “You’ve tried to put a cuisse on your arm. It’s supposed to cover your thigh and knee.” he chastised.

“As if I’m supposed to know the difference!” the redhead complained.

“Aren’t there tomes of knowledge you could consult about the various ages of history?” the angel lectured.

“I’ve studied up a bit!” Crowley defended, “But I can’t keep up with everything. I have a life, you know.”

Aziraphale helped strip the incorrectly applied armor and spied Crowley’s anachronistic outfit underneath. “What are those strange trousers?”

“Ah,” the redhead smiled. “These are called ‘skinny jeans,’ They accentuate the buttocks.” He turned around and rotated his hips for emphasis.

“I’m afraid I can’t see the difference,” the angel sniffed.

“Oi!” Crowley warned before biting at his nails and lowering his voice. “Haven’t had any complaints.”

“How old are you now?” Aziraphale asked. “You’ve got a bit of grey.” He moved as if to pluck a hair out of Crowley’s head and was rebuked with a slap to the hand.

“Alright! That’s it! I did not come here to have you point out every single one of my insecurities!”

“I’m serious about your age,” the angel said quasi-apologetically. “I’d really like to know.”

“Thirty-five,” Crowley responded dully. “When and where is this?”

“Sixth century Wessex,” Aziraphale replied. “Definitely not the time to be caught wearing that.” He nodded toward the abandoned armor and Crowley perked up.

“Nicked it off some bloke sleeping in a hut,” he revealed with a toothy grin before fluttering his lashes. “Friend of yours?”

“Absolutely not,” the angel averred. “The most foul foe. I’m meant to thwart him, if you could perhaps lead the way?”

“I can try,” Crowley said, tilting his head. “The fog’s a bit much.”

“Yes, it’s rather spooky,” Aziraphale added.

Crowley snorted as they fell in step beside one another. “Only you would use a word like ‘spooky.’ Still do, coincidentally.” He must have misstepped because his shoulder suddenly nudged the angel’s.

“Oh?” Aziraphale asked, trying to hide his interest. “You’ve seen me around lately? Where you’re from, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Crowley answered with a huge smile. “Every once in awhile.”

“That’s nice to hear,” the angel said. “I guess our arrangement has remained intact.”

Crowley held out an arm to keep Aziraphale from tripping over a log, and easily guided him around the obstacle. “Hm. Arrangement. Is that what you’re calling it?”

“Thank you,” the angel said quietly. “And yes. I’m not sure what else to label it. An acquaintanceship, perhaps?”

“Ohh,” Crowley let out a pained sound. “Right. Yes, I suppose I prefer arrangement after all. And here we are!” He stopped and indicated toward a stone hut in a clearing. “Your baddie awaits.”

“Excellent,” Aziraphale proclaimed. “I’ll be just a moment.”

The redhead watched him go, leaning against a tree as he dug his hands in his pockets. Absently he began to hum a song and only broke off occasionally when the sound of metal or grunting interrupted. Finally, the angel emerged and re-sheathed his sword.

“All done!” he said cheerfully. “Fancy a drink?”

“Always.”

-

Aziraphale directed them to an inn where he’d been staying the last few days and had Crowley assist him with his armor.

“I’m going to be an expert at this in no time,” the redhead joked as he helped undo the various buckles and ties. The angel threw him a dubious look but didn’t comment for once.

“None of my Lady Tongue for dinner?” Crowley cajoled. When Aziraphale blinked in response, the redhead snickered. “Sorry. A reference for another time.” He finished with all the upper portions and Aziraphale sat down on the meager straw bed, eager to remove his boots.

Crowley knelt and pulled at the first one before grasping at a foot. “Oh angel! It’s like ice! You must be so miserable!” He gave the blonde a commiserating pout and held the appendage to his chest in an attempt to warm it.

Aziraphale stared down at him, thrown by the overly familiar treatment of his person. “It’s nothing,” he said. “I just need to sit by the fire.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the redhead huffed. He drew off his own strange boots and wiggled out of a pair of fuzzy socks. “These are cashmere,” he explained, pulling one over each angelic foot. Aziraphale flexed his toes and gave an almost imperceptible wiggle.

“Oh my!” he flushed happily. “Oh yes, that’s quite lovely isn’t it? Cadge-meer.”

Crowley didn’t bother to correct him as he pulled his own boots back on.

“But now you’ll go without!” Aziraphale protested.

“Psh, please,” Crowley waved him off. “I’ll only be here temporarily. You’re the one who needs them.” He stretched out on his side and pressed a reverent kiss to the top of Aziraphale’s closest foot before remembering himself.

“Uh,” he said quietly, scrambling away. “We should go warm up by the fire anyways, right? I saw a roaring hearth as we came in…” He pressed his back to the door and ducked out before Aziraphale could comment on the matter.

The angel followed after his companion a few moments later, and saw the redhead standing at the bar with his head in his hands. Whatever was bothering him immediately lifted however, when Aziraphale cleared his throat at his side.

“Oh, hey!” the redhead smiled. “I was just trying to remember if I left the stove on.”

“What?” Aziraphale asked impassively.

Crowley shook his head, a gesture that the angel was becoming increasingly familiar with. “What’s good around here?” he asked.

Aziraphale stood on his tiptoes to survey the bar and saw a few branded barrels. “Ah! As I supposed, there’s a monastery not far from here. The monks have absolutely perfected their winemaking technique. Why don’t you find a table and I’ll order?”

The redhead nodded and moved toward the back of the room. As Aziraphale waited, he turned back two or three times to make sure Crowley was still there. Each time he did, the man beamed back at him as if doing the same. It left a fuzzy feeling in the angel’s chest, though he couldn’t have come up with a name for it. Crowley seemed to know him so well. To anticipate his needs, even. He imagined they must be very good friends in the future.

**1026 AD**

Aziraphale watched in wonder as the cathedral singers began in unison.

“Ut-re-mi-fa-sol-la.” Their notes filled the church and seemed to bounce off of one another between the stone walls. Aziraphale felt his heart soar up with them. It was almost like he was amongst the Angelic Choir once more. He let out a heavy sigh as he backed away, filled with good will and glowing with Her grace.

He turned around and nearly ran over Crowley, who had apparently shown up during the rehearsal at some point. Aziraphale apologized in a hushed voice, patting the man’s shoulders as he pushed him into the narthex.

“Crowley!” he whisper-cried. “My dear boy! How are you?”

Far away from the stained glass windows, he could barely make out the redhead’s face.

“I’ve been better,” Crowley croaked. Aziraphale perceived the hollowness in his tone and rallied.

“Not to worry!” he said excitedly. “I’ve the most wonderful news! Do you hear what they’re singing? Guido of Arezzo has invented a method to translate melodies from one person to the next!”

Crowley let out a sound between a groan and a whimper. “So? Who cares.”

“You do!” Aziraphale nearly laughed. “I do! Everyone in the world! Don’t you understand?” He grasped Crowley’s thin shoulders and squeezed them tightly. “It’s a map to music! A way to share between cultures, languages, and borders without need for memorization. He has it all written down, you see. We’re hearing the effect of the notes out loud. Isn’t it simply marvelous?”

Crowley was silent for a long time before choking out. “Yeah!”

“Oh!” Aziraphale fretted, pulling Crowley into the light. His eyes scanned over the redhead’s face, taking in his bloodshot eyes and trembling lips. “You’re young again,” he said nervously. “What, mid-twenties? Tell me what’s wrong. What’s happened?”

Crowley’s tears spilled over his cheeks and he focused resolutely on the ground. “Oh, angel!” he sobbed.

Aziraphale pulled him into his arms without a second thought, soothing the boy’s heart wrenching cries.

“No, no!” Crowley ground out, pulling away. “Don’t! It’s my fault! I ruined it!”

“Ruined? You could never ruin anything my dear,” Aziraphale dismissed. “What do you think you ruined?”

The redhead shook his head and met the angel’s eyes, burning a hole into the blue. “I lost my best friend!” Crowley cried, and vanished on the spot.

**1601 AD**

Aziraphale glanced around the theatre and grimaced. Was he really only one of five people who had come to the performance? He knew the playwright was debuting some new material, but usually the turnout was much better.

“Must be one of the gloomy ones,” a breath of warm air caressed his ear.

The angel turned around and was amazed to see Crowley standing behind him. With a quick once over his eyebrows arched. “Why Crowley! You look like a proper gentleman! Though the black’s a bit much.”

The redhead laughed fondly. “Being transported directly into a theatre costume room was fortuitous. Why can’t that happen more often?”

“Mm, you’re a bit older than the last time I saw you,” the angel remarked.

“I’m thirty,” Crowley informed him. “And for once I don’t need to ask you when or where I am. Wow. Seeing the original Globe for the first time is...wow.” His neck craned around as he admired the interior, but Aziraphale was worried.

“You were gone to pieces the last time we met,” he interjected. “I do hope everything is better now. You were practically raving! We were at the Arezzo Cathedral. It must have been around six hundred years ago.”

The redhead squeezed his eyes shut and let out a slow exhalation. “Yesss,” he croaked. “That was a terrible, terrible day. Five years ago for me. Shit. I wish I could go back and just...tell myself it’s all going to be okay.”

“And is it?” Aziraphale asked worriedly.

Crowley gave him one of the sweetest smiles he’d ever seen. “Angel...it’s more than okay. It’s perfect. I don’t think I’ve been happier in my life.”

“Oh!” The angel felt a flutter in his chest and couldn’t tell if it was a nice feeling or not. “Something’s happened?”

“Yeah,” the redhead mooned dreamily. He glanced around the theatre and grinned as if it were his own handiwork. “I can’t wait to get back and tell him I was here.”

“Him?” Another flutter, and definitely not a pleasant one.

“My um...significant other?” Crowley asked and laughed. “Er...boyfriend? Ngk! It’s all so new and it’s beyond what a label could capture.”

“Ahaha,” the angel grimaced. “I can hardly imagine. Such human activities are beyond me.”

Crowley let out an overly loud guffaw and Aziraphale froze, unsure of how to respond.

“Excuse me?” the bard himself approached them with clasped hands. “We seem to be short an audience this evening. Would you mind terribly egging the actors on? They get so sensitive and you and your ‘friend’ seem like the appreciative type.” He waggled his eyebrows and the angel immediately went on the defensive.

“Oh, he’s not my friend,” Aziraphale spat out. “I hardly know him!”

Shakespeare shrugged and returned to the stage.

“Hardly know me?” Crowley gasped out. “What in the world?”

“I don’t know! I...I panicked!” the angel admitted.

“Star-stuck, angel?” Crowley suggested, and by Her if it wasn’t purred by the man.

Aziraphale turned his attention resolutely to the play, focusing on Hamlet’s soliloquy.

“Alright Hamlet!” he cheered with mock enthusiasm. “Buck up!” He swung his arm and ignored Crowley’s knowing grin.

  
-

_Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference_

_**Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *** _

**1971 Crowley is born**

**1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2**

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1**

**1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2** ****

**1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3**

**1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3**

**2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3**

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1**

**2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1**


	4. Crowley, 1989-1999 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Get out the tissues :(

**1989 AD**

Crowley was misting the orchids when the Berlin Wall fell. He glanced up at the shop’s telly, just catching some footage of the Germans chipping away at it with hammers and pickaxes, a more symbolic gesture with the Brandenburg gate open. He hummed to himself as he scanned the crowd, looking for a pop of white-blonde hair that might indicate his angel’s presence. Aziraphale was almost always around when major world events occurred.

The bell above the door rang and Crowley turned to greet the next customer.

“Oh,” the redhead remarked, smothering his eager smile before raising his nose in the air. “I’m afraid we’re quite definitely closed.”

“Is that an impression of me?” Aziraphale sniffed. “I don’t sound anything like that.” He turned to admire a selection of cacti while Crowley grinned from ear to ear. “Hello little dears! Is Crowley treating you well? I know he can be quite the terror.”

Crowley snorted and pulled the angel into a clumsy hug. “Hey,” he said softly. “It’s good to see you.” After a quick squeeze he stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets, face flushed. “So tell me what you’ve been up to? Visiting our friend Mr. Gorbachev, by chance?” Crowley nodded his head toward the television screen and Aziraphale beamed.

“Perhaps a blessing here and there, just as I was passing through. Lots going on in Europe these days. And you? I see you’ve attained a part-time job for the holidays. Planning to head back to uni soon?”

Crowley groaned. “I’d much rather stay here. If I read one more textbook my head might explode. I can’t believe I let you convince me to go.”

“Ah, yes,” the angel said sagely. “I’ve always said education builds-”

“Stop!” Crowley begged dramatically. “If I hear you say that one more time I’ll drop out!”

Aziraphale pouted a bit at that but recovered quickly. “Since I’m back in town, I wondered if you might be up for a little Christmas brunch? They have that lovely sticky toffee pudding at the brasserie.”

The redhead smirked before grabbing his scarf and coat from the rack. “I was just winding down for the day. Lead on angel.”

-

The angel clasped his hands over his stomach and groaned happily. “That...was simply scrumptious!”

A dusting of pink bloomed across Crowley’s cheeks. “Er...good. Glad you enjoyed it.” He cleared his throat and stared at the front door, watching people stumble in from the cold. It had started to snow and small flakes blew in as if they had a reservation.

“I’d love to hear more about your adventures,” Aziraphale said, arresting his attention. “Have you made any new friends at school?”

Crowley chuckled and shrugged. “Here and there. Met a bloke, actually.”

“Oh?” the angel remarked. “A new beau?”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “I mean we just started dating but he seems great. His name’s Oliver.”

Aziraphale spied a streak of caramel left on his plate and captured it with his thumb. “And what’s he like?”

The redhead gritted his teeth, loathe to admit that Oliver was a rather chubby blonde who was at least fifteen years older than him. A professor who taught in the religious studies department. “Nice,” he offered instead. “Studious. You’d approve, I think.”

Aziraphale sucked on his finger and pulled it out with a pop. Crowley’s eyes mapped the movement before escaping to the side.

“He sounds like he’s got potential,” the angel said. “Hopefully he’ll keep you in line. I can’t be around all the time, you know.”

“I know,” Crowley smiled sadly. “Now that I’m all grown up you can get back to your proper work. I just wish I could go with you. It sounds much more interesting than burying my head in academic texts all the time.”

Aziraphale hummed unhappily. “Funny. I’d trade with you any day.”

That made the redhead chuckle. “Yeah. You’d hermit yourself away in that bookshop til the end of time if you had it your way.”

“I would indeed. Unfortunately, I don’t have that option. In fact, I’m off to Panama next. I’ve been informed there’s an operation planned before the end of new year that I’m meant to monitor.”

“Nothing dangerous, I hope,” Crowley said.

“Not to me,” the angel replied. “If I’m discorporated it’s an unfortunate setback and a mountain of paperwork, but the damage isn’t everlasting.”

“Oh, the bureaucracy of immortality,” Crowley teased.

“You laugh but it’s quite the headache,” Aziraphale sniffed. “Speaking of, I’d better skedaddle. I’d like to get my new acquisitions catalogued before I head over to Central America.”

“Skedaddle,” Crowley repeated with a mocking grin. “When will I see you again? It’s been months and I uh...well, I’ve missed you.” His fingers curled on the table to keep his hand from reaching across it.

“It might be some time, my dear,” the angel warned. “Better not hold your breath, as they say.”

Crowley’s face fell. “Okay. You know where to find me.”

“Always,” Aziraphale smiled warmly.

**1992 AD**

“Three years!” Crowley spat. “Three bloody years and not even a telephone call!” He was currently stomping through Oliver’s flat enjoying a massive sulk. “He’s supposed to be my best friend!”

Oliver looked up from the papers he was grading and pursed his lips. “Is that all he is to you?”

Crowley went rigid and swiveled from his hips to regard the older man. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

The professor studied the redhead for a moment before pushing his students’ papers to one side. “Three years encompasses the whole of the time we’ve spent together. Within those three years, you’ve mentioned Aziraphale no less than a thousand times. I’ve often wondered if there were certain truths you’ve kept from me, if not yourself.”

Crowley’s face went red with anger. “You’re suggesting I’ve been lying to you? That I’ve what? Had some illicit affair behind your back?” His fingers clenched into fists at his sides.

Oliver was not affected by these defensive gestures, which only served to frustrate Crowley more. “What I’m suggesting,” the man said calmly, “Is that your apparent obsession with him has become more important to you than our own relationship. I’m tired of competing with a ghost, Crowley.”

The redhead gaped at him. “You’re not competing with him! And he’s not a ghost, he’s just...busy. He has a very important job-”

“As you’ve said multiple times,” Oliver drawled. “Crowley...do you honestly expect me to stay with a man who is in love with someone else?”

“This is absurd!” Crowley snapped. “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation!”

“And I can’t believe you’ve yet to deny you have feelings for him. I find it quite telling. Don’t you?”

Crowley ground his teeth together and made for the door.

-

That evening was Crowley’s twenty-first birthday, and although he was met by a group of supportive friends, his boyfriend was nowhere in sight. Deciding that he and Oliver were effectively over, Crowley turned to getting blackout drunk instead.

“And then he says...get this...that I’m in love with Aziraphale!” Crowley laughed sullenly. “Can you believe that?”

One of his friends from first year shifted her gaze to the wall. “Maybe it’s not...inconceivable?” she suggested. “You do talk a lot about him.”

Crowley stared at her in shock. “Ana! You can’t be serious! I’ve known him all my life! I mean sure, when I was a teenager I had a bit of a crush, but it was never going to go anywhere. The idea that I’ve been doting on him all this time is...it doesn’t bear repeating.”

Another friend, a quiet boy named Newt spoke up. “Don’t hate me, but I think Anathema has a point. I’ve always gotten the feeling that Aziraphale means a lot to you. Perhaps more than you’ve let on. It certainly sounds like something more than simple affection.” He eyed the brunette girl and she thanked him with her eyes.

“The whole world’s gone mad,” Crowley grumbled. “And frankly, I’m over it. We’re supposed to be celebrating here!” He raised his pint glass and his friends followed suit.

Within a few hours, Crowley was absolutely tossed and was having a hard time standing up straight. While some of his friends had trickled out after midnight, he was still going strong. Crowley excused himself to visit the loo for the fortieth time that evening, finding that he had to lean on the side of a stall just to keep upright.

“Stupid bloody angel,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t even show up for my goddamned bloody twenty-first.” He walked out of the bathroom and almost ran into a beautifully painted fresco on the wall. On the floor was an elaborate mosaic depicting a hunt.

“Damn,” he complained. He’d time traveled again and appeared to be in someone’s home. He turned, and looked directly into the painted marble eyes of a bust standing in front of him. Even Crowley could recognize the unmistakable visage of a Roman emperor. On top of the statue was a golden laurel crown that glinted in the light of the sun.

**1994 AD**

Crowley tried and failed to remember the name of the guy giving him one of the best blowjobs of his life. Not that it mattered. He’d only chosen him for one reason. He reached down and secured a handful of blonde curls, watching the man’s lips slide over his erection.

“Ffffuck!” the redhead swore. His head fell back into the hard brick wall behind him. He wouldn’t normally have sex on the street but it had been a particularly long week. He’d started managing the plant shop he’d worked at through college and he’d been stressed out enough to drink his weight in wine. The results of such thoughtless indulgence were only becoming clear in the moment.

The guy pulled off of him to gasp, “God I love your cock!” and Crowley rolled his eyes, yanking him back into position. He had no desire to see the stranger’s face. If he squinted, he could almost pretend it was someone else working him over. The thought made Crowley groan and his hips picked up their pace. He could almost see the bright blue eyes, wide and unblinking, staring right at him.

Crowley came just as he realized those eyes were not part of an elaborate fantasy. No indeed. Aziraphale was turning away, having walked up to the alley and frozen on sight.

“Shit!” Crowley cursed. He kneed the man in front of him as he pulled up his trousers and ran. “Zira! Shit!”

It wasn’t hard to catch up to the angel, despite his brisk pace.

“I’m sorry!” Crowley cried. “I didn’t mean for you to see-”

Aziraphale held up his hands. “It’s none of my business, Crowley!”

“Please,” Crowley tried again. “I feel terrible. I don’t usually-”

“What?” the angel cut him off again. “Fornicate in public? Where is your sense of propriety?”

“Propriety?” the redhead asked, baffled. “That’s what you’re upset about? That I’ve ruined my reputation?” He would have laughed under other circumstances.

“It’s not a laughing matter,” Aziraphale said anyways. “There’s a time and a place, Crowley.” He turned his head away as if he couldn’t bear to look at the redhead.

“It didn’t mean anything,” Crowley said weakly.

The angel looked back at him and scoffed. “That doesn’t make it any better! In fact...had you procured that man’s services?”

It was Crowley’s turn to scoff. “How dare you? I don’t need to hire people to suck my cock-”

“Language!” Aziraphale hissed. “Please! Let’s just not speak of it ever again.”

“Right,” Crowley frowned. “Let’s never talk about anything real. About our feelings. About the truth.”

“What are you on about?” the angel groaned.

The redhead shook his head. His posture was menacing except for the slight tremors that visibly shook him. “You know,” he said, tone deadly serious.

“Know what?” Aziraphale returned, looking put out. Crowley was so tired of it all. How long could the angel keep this up?

“I know you know,” Crowley growled. He turned his back on Aziraphale, opting to walk away rather than express the sentiment that was dying to get out.

**1995 AD**

Crowley broke up with his most recent boyfriend after an eight month-long relationship. The pressure point came when after taking him on a romantic picnic, the guy confessed his utter and undying love for the redhead. Crowley merely blinked until he was shaken by the shoulder.

It was no use. Crowley walked along the Thames and kicked at the rocks in his path. Fall had arrived at last and it usually lifted his spirits, but not this time. He just couldn’t wait any longer.

He already knew what the answer would be, but he went to the bookshop anyways. He peered in the windows and caught the angel’s profile, head buried in a novel as was customary. Crowley smiled to himself and his guts twisted. What if there was hope? What if what he wanted was at the end of a sentence? He squared his shoulders, trying to be brave.

The bell over his head startled him though he’d heard it a million times. He nearly tripped over the rug in the entryway and struggled to get his bearings. He was a complete mess.

Aziraphale hardly noticed. He was holding up one finger as his lips mouthed the words on the page. At last, he shut the volume and turned his attention to the redhead. “Crowley!” he sang out. “It’s ever so nice to see you!”

“I love you,” Crowley spat out. He was dripping in sweat and might have been holding a grenade for the level of anxiety he emitted.

The angel beamed at him. “And I love you, my dear. What a nice thing to say!”

“N-no,” the redhead stuttered.

“Don’t give me the I’m not nice speech,” Aziraphale said distractedly as he reshelved his book.

“No, that’s not why I was saying no. That isn’t what I- oh, Someone!” Crowley crossed his arms over his chest and heaved out a sigh of frustration. “I need to do this properly.”

He moved across the room and placed himself in front of the blonde, making Aziraphale’s brows raise.

“I more than love you,” Crowley stated. “It’s impossible to capture just how much more ‘more’ is but I’ll spend my life trying to do it. I know in some ways you see me as a child. Your existence is vast where mine is limited. I should look like a speck to you, and yet you’ve gone out of your way to be my constant. Without you, I would have been so alone, but my travels brought us together every single time as if it were fate. Don’t you think there’s a reason for that? What if we are the Great Plan?”

Aziraphale looked dazed as he shook his head. “What are you saying?”

Crowley reached out and grabbed his hands, squeezing them as if he could transfer the intensity of his feelings through touch. “I’m in love with you.”

Four walls, a ceiling, and a floor fell away. The sun overhead vanished and the blackness of a starless vacuum was all that remained save for two individuals. Crowley’s heart was hammering in his chest. He sucked in a breath and waited. It was all he could do.

“Crowley…” Aziraphale began. The redhead gazed into his blue eyes and watched the sparkle in them retreat. “I think you’re confused.”

Crowley felt a mad impulse to scream, but he beat it back. “I am not,” he said calmly. He squeezed the angel’s hands and felt them slip out of his grasp immediately afterwards. It took everything he had not to chase them. “I have felt this way for a very long time.”

Aziraphale began to flutter about the shop nervously. He was talking to himself under his breath, and Crowley could make out occasional snippets, such as ‘just a phase’ and ‘ridiculous notions.’ He lost patience as the angel began to willfully ignore him.

“Tell me what you’re scared of,” he demanded.

Aziraphale whirled around and looked incredulous. “Scared? I’m not scared!”

“Is it because I’m human?” Crowley pressed on. “Because I won’t live as long as you?”

“No!” the angel objected.

“Then tell me it’s because you feel nothing for me!” Crowley begged.

“I can’t say that!”

“I’ve been banging my head against a wall for years!” the redhead pivoted. “I’ve been trying to hash out all this nonsense about the Great Plan and why I am the way I am. Why do I find you everywhere I go? It’s because we are meant to be together!”

“No!” Aziraphale shouted, throwing his books on the floor. Crowley blinked and stared at the pages bending in the wrong directions. The angel was seething, and suddenly Crowley felt like he was ten years old all over again.

“You forget I know your future!” Aziraphale said sharply. “I’ve met you as a man in various stages of your life, and I can assure you that we do not end up together, Crowley! It’s time you scrubbed this foolish notion out of your head once and for all!”

Crowley gaped at him, shaking his head in disbelief. “You’re wrong!”

“I lived it!” the angel shouted.

“No,” the redhead whispered to himself. He closed the five short steps between them and pulled Aziraphale into a searing kiss. Crowley instantly felt the perfect lightning that he’d always dreamed of. ‘Yes,’ his brain said again and again. It was the two of them all along. That's how it was supposed to be.

He felt two hands push against his chest and he was flung backwards into a shelving unit. The look on Aziraphale’s face was such a mix of emotions that Crowley couldn’t begin to parse them.

“You should leave,” the angel intoned.

Crowley sidled along the bookshelf and made for the door, bursting out of the shop before the first real tears could fall.

**1999 AD**

Crowley was in line for coffee when he spotted a familiar-looking face near the back. Aziraphale was sitting at a table heartily enjoying a selection of pastries. Crowley walked out of the queue without ordering.

“Hey!” he called, giving an awkward wave. The angel looked up and gaped in surprise.

“Crowley! I um...how are you?”

The redhead flung himself down in the opposite chair. “Fantastic!” he replied. “I uh...just bought the shop. She’s mine at last!”

“Oh! That’s wonderful to hear!” Aziraphale said.

The redhead blushed with pride and crossed his arms. “Yeah. I’m gonna rename it Eden.”

The angel beamed and rolled his eyes at the same time. “How fitting.”

“It’s great to run into you,” Crowley said. “I was uh...in Soho not too long ago. Um, 1967, I mean.”

Aziraphale’s eyes widened in mutual understanding. “I...I see,” he replied, glancing at his hands. It was obvious that he didn’t want to talk about the bookshop incident.

Crowley cleared his throat and changed the subject. “How’s Heaven treating you?”

Aziraphale was lost in thought for a moment. “The same, I suppose. They’re very concerned with something called the Y2K. Apparently all the computers are going to explode at the stroke of midnight! You don’t own one, do you?”

“Erm, I do actually,” Crowley replied with a chuckle. “I’ll um...be sure to stay away from it that day.”

“Mind that you do,” the angel said seriously. “And how’s everything else? I can’t believe it’s been four years…” His expression wavered between discomfort and hopefulness.

“Actually I uh...I’ve been seeing someone,” Crowley said. His cheeks turned pink and he couldn’t help the silly smile forming over his face. “Zira, I think he’s the one. I’ve been thinking about proposing. Making it official.”

The angel smiled but it didn’t wrinkle the edges of his eyes. “Well...isn’t that such lovely news.”

“The way we met was pretty funny. I was delivering a few ferns to his office and he assumed I was a new colleague with a plant addiction.” Crowley laughed at the memory and ran a hand through his hair. He’d been growing it out and it was nearly shoulder-length. “We started talking and it was just...he’s perfect.”

“I’m so happy to hear it,” Aziraphale replied mildly. “I’d like to meet him, of course.”

“Yeah, you’d love him,” the redhead agreed. “Even though he’s the total opposite of me. Was in the military for one. Went to an Ivy League in America. He’s great. Really, really great.”

“It’s always nice to see things work out the way they should,” the angel said before thinking. He and Crowley met each other’s eyes at the same time and hesitated to look away.

“I should probably get going,” the redhead said at last. “I haven’t even gotten my coffee yet and I’m meeting with a marketing team in about twenty minutes. There’s so much to do, being a business owner!”

“I can only imagine,” Aziraphale offered. “Mind how you go, Crowley.”

“Ta, angel,” he returned, making his way back to the barista.

Aziraphale tilted his head down and folded his hands neatly in his lap. Every once in a while the corner of his mouth would twitch and he would blink profusely. He waited for Crowley to leave before getting up and going himself.

-

_Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference_

_**Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *** _

**1971 Crowley is born**

**1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2**

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1**

**1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2** ****

**1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4**

**1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4** **  
**

**1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3**

**1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4** ****

**1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3**

**1999 Tells Zira about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4** ****

**2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3**

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1**

**2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1**

  
  



	5. Aziraphale, 1793-1862 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't hate me! The pining in this one amps up a bit.

**1793 AD**

The angel was loath to admit his mistakes, but this was definitely one of them. He groaned as he rattled the chains around his wrists and heard the unmistakable sound of the guillotine outside. Head office was going to harangue him if he used one more ‘frivolous’ miracle, as they called it. Apparently making sure people had enough to eat during a revolution was considered superfluous. He sucked in a long-suffering sigh and tried to imagine talking himself out of this one.

The door to his cell opened and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Terrible mistake discorporating me!” he warned. “Perhaps we can work something else out?”

“That depends,” a familiar voice said. “What can you do for me?”

Aziraphale’s eyes fluttered open and his heart skipped in his chest. “Crowley!” he sang. He turned to look at his savior and was immediately offended. “Oh, good Lord! What on earth are you wearing?”

The redhead glanced down at his attire in surprise. He was dressed as a French peasant, he was sure of it. He’d grabbed the clothes off a bank where a man who was swimming in a pond. “What?” he asked defensively. “At least I’m humble. You on the other hand… That look is practically suicidal.”

The angel stood and his chains moved with him, but not far enough. He immediately sat down again. “I have standards,” he sniffed, crossing one leg over the other. His aristocratic attire, including a lace collar and gold brocade, stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Don’t you just? Look at those little shoes!” Crowley cooed, his voice trailing high as he spied the heeled satin numbers.

Aziraphale tucked them under the bench he was sitting on. “Are you going to help me out here or not?”

The redhead sighed and pulled out a ring of jingling keys. “Let’s get this over with. I’m sure you were on your way somewhere important.”

The angel looked contrite. “I might have...popped over to sample some crepes.”

“Are you actually serious?” Crowley scoffed. “Tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not!” Aziraphale objected. “You can’t get anything decent in London, you know.”

“I swear to Someone,” Crowley muttered, brandishing the keys and selecting the first one to try.

As he went through the lot of them, the angel peered down and noticed something new. “You’ve a ring.”

“A whole keyring, yes,” the redhead growled. “Now stay still so I can figure out which one works.”

“No,” Aziraphale said breathlessly. “A proper ring. Crowley...have you gotten married?”

Crowley glanced up and his face relaxed into a blissful countenance. “I have,” he smiled dreamily. He hesitated for a moment before returning to the manacles.

The angel’s posture wavered. “I suppose congratulations are in order.” He surveyed some of the fine lines on the redhead’s face and guessed he was in his mid to late thirties.

Crowley grinned to himself. “I should say so. Had to chase him 'round long enough.”

“Human courtship is a mystery to me,” Aziraphale mumbled.

“You can say that again,” the redhead agreed.

“Have you been together long then? You and your husband?” Aziraphale watched as Crowley fumbled with the fourth key and cursed when it didn’t fit. There were only a few left.

“Seven years in all,” Crowley responded. He tried the fifth key and the cuffs sprang open. “Aha!” He jumped up and watched the angel rub his wrists, shooting him an unsubtle pout.

“Ohh,” Crowley pulled an indulgent face. “We should get the hell out of here, yes? But first, perhaps a change of clothes?”

Aziraphale hesitated and called down a minor miracle, transforming into a revolutionary himself. He was obviously not very happy about it.

Moving quickly, the pair of them escaped the Bastille just before the next round of executions.

“I suppose I could buy you lunch,” the angel decided. “Given your helpful intervention.”

“Sounds grand, angel,” Crowley replied. They walked in silence and Aziraphale stole several glances at the redhead’s left hand on the way.

“Did you uh, have a big ceremony?” he asked when he couldn’t stand it any longer.

“Hm?” Crowley asked. “Oh, you mean the wedding? No, it was very small. But all the frills, of course. He wanted the whole gamut. Cake. Groom’s cake. A five course dinner. Rings on a lacy little pillow.”

“Sounds demanding,” the angel said airily.

“You can say that again!!” Crowley laughed wholeheartedly. “He must have spent an entire month just picking out the invitation stationary. And don’t get me started on the flowers!” He groaned and wiped a hand down over his face.

“But you are happy, right?” Aziraphale asked, stopping in his tracks.

Crowley had walked on and had to spin around. “Incandescently,” he promised. “It’s like everything makes sense now. I just wish we’d gotten together sooner.”

Aziraphale gave him a tight smile. “He must be very special.”

The redhead tilted his head and Aziraphale swore he’d never seen him look so fond. “He is.”

The angel nodded quickly and resumed their walk. He was feeling rather unusual. At first he wondered if he was merely hungry but the thought of food turned his stomach. When they finally arrived at the restaurant he ended up picking at his crepes while Crowley ate heartily. He barely spoke as the redhead waxed on about his life, his work, and his love. It took nearly the entire meal before Crowley started to catch on.

“Angel, are you alright?” he asked. “You look pale.”

“Of course I’m fine!” Aziraphale said, overselling it. “I just have so much on my mind. With the revolution and, and everything. And I’ve been um...thinking about opening a bookshop.”

Crowley grinned. “I think it’s a splendid idea. Have you already picked out a space?”

“Yes, actually. There’s a little spot in Soho that I’ve had my eye on. I believe the building used to be an apothecary but it’s available for purchase now. I thought it might make a good base of operations. A cover for my presence on earth.”

“Who is he?” Crowley mimicked and gesticulated. “Why, that’s Aziraphale Fell! The bookseller! Have you been to his shop? No, he keeps the most peculiar hours. It’s all very mysterious!”

“Hush,” the angel said, blushing. “I am planning to remain fairly discrete. Keep a low profile, as they say. Gaining a reputation would hardly help in that arena.”

“Right,” the redhead agreed. “It has NOTHING to do with the fact that you’d rather discorporate than part with a book from your collection.”

Aziraphale glanced up and frowned decidedly. “Are you suggesting someone might actually wish to purchase something? I really hadn’t considered…”

Crowley sat back and laughed until his face went red from the effort. “Oh, angel,” he sighed. “You’re too precious for words.”

The blonde blinked and took a moment to recover from the compliment. It left him with a fuzzy feeling that strangled at the edges. “At any rate,” he redirected, “I have to plan out the logistics first. Securing the shop, thinking of a business name, tracking down my collections...they’re scattered in different parts of the world right now. It will be nice to have them all in the same place.”

Crowley smiled indulgently. “I can’t wait to see it.”

They paused for a beat and began speaking at the same time, but Aziraphale insisted Crowley go first.

“Listen, I was wondering if I could tempt you to dinner, if I’m still around of course.”

The angel hummed and shifted in his chair. “I suppose that might be nice. What were you thinking?”

“Anywhere there’s good wine,” Crowley stated. “I’m in the mood to celebrate. We’ll toast to my nuptials and your impending success as a businessman.”

Aziraphale instantly deflated. “You know what, dear boy? I’ve just remembered I have a very rigorous blessing schedule tonight. Perhaps another time?”

Crowley looked so disappointed that the angel nearly recanted, but in the end he held his ground. After bidding him farewell, Aziraphale walked out onto the street and swerved into an adjacent alley, putting his head in his hands.

**1800 AD**

Aziraphale was in a tizzy. He’d arranged a reception for the opening of the bookshop and was currently regretting ever advertising the event. His shelves were in shambles, only partly organized and some remaining unbuilt. Loose books were strewn all over the shop, and a dense fog of dust had sprung up from his attempts to sweep the floors. It was hopeless. Aziraphale wondered fruitlessly if he just blew out all of the candles perhaps no one would try to come inside. A knock on the door signaled the opposite.

“Coming!” he said in a high voice. He checked his pocket watch and saw the visitor was two hours early, mounting his frustration and anxiety. “What is it?” he huffed, throwing the door open.

The man on the other side merely raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Is that any way to greet a guest?” Crowley teased.

Aziraphale blushed, noting that the redhead was a bit older than the last time they'd met. He glanced down to see two hands outstretched, bearing gifts.

“Chocolates,” Crowley revealed, shaking the box on the left. “And a little arrangement to brighten things up.” He held out the bouquet and Aziraphale took it immediately, pressing it to his nose.

“Oh, heavenly!” he commented. “But what brings you by?”

Crowley stepped inside and set the box of confections on the angel’s desk. “Happened to be in the area,” he smiled. “And saw a newspaper with today’s date. The opening is this evening, right?” He looked around at the disarray with some confusion.

“It is,” Aziraphale admitted. “You can see I’m woefully underprepared.”

Crowley turned and clapped his hands, drawing the angel’s attention to the ring on his finger. “Nothing we can’t tackle together,” the redhead offered. “I happen to remember just the way you like things.” He set off toward the stacks and began to situate the books while Aziraphale watched over his shoulder. Each selection and its arrangement was indeed, just how the angel would have preferred.

Not wanting to remain idle, Aziraphale set to work finishing the last of the shelving units.

Within a few hours, everything was as it should have been, and the angel was busy preparing a small buffet for his guests. Crowley moved to his side and was setting the flowers in a vase.

“You know your way around here better than I do,” Aziraphale laughed.

“Mm, that’s what happens when you practically grow up at A.Z. Fell and Co.”

“Oh, yes!” the angel grinned. “Do you like it? I thought it sounded appropriate.”

Crowley turned and tucked an imaginary curl behind the blonde’s ear. “It’s perfect.”

Heat burned Aziraphale’s cheeks and he was glad to hear the bell over the door. He scurried away, fawning over the customers and explaining the shop’s features.

It wasn’t long into the night that Crowley noted a distinct change in the angel’s demeanor. Once the blonde realized people meant to purchase his wares, his mood fouled considerably. He was relieved to see Crowley corralling the unruly customers, explaining that the event was just a preview and that all sales would take place the following week. Aziraphale sighed in relief and followed suit.

After the last visitor was hurried out the door, Aziraphale closed and locked the shop, even barring himself against the entrance. Despite multiple knocks, the shop would not open again that evening, or even several weeks following. The angel would sit down to create the world’s most confusing hours shortly after, in hopes of deterring future business.

“Well done, angel!” Crowley smiled. “Shall we toast the occasion?” He brought out two bottles of wine from Aziraphale’s stores with a knowing look on his face.

“Please,” the blonde requested. “I’ve never been so exhausted in my life!” He plopped down into one of his upholstered chairs while Crowley prepared their drinks. With the snap of his fingers, the angel lit a roaring fire in the hearth and sighed contentedly.

“You were marvelous,” Aziraphale added once Crowley was sitting on the sofa.

“I was, wasn’t I?” the redhead replied with a cheeky grin.

They sipped at their wine and stared into the fire.

“How old are you now, dear boy?” the angel asked.

“Old as the hills,” Crowley answered. “Forty-five now.”

“And everything is well with you?” Aziraphale inquired, glancing at the wedding band once more.

“Oh yes,” the redhead mused. “I’ve been hard at work preparing to open another location for my business.”

The angel hummed to himself as he mapped Crowley’s profile in the firelight. “And your husband?”

“He’s great,” Crowley replied. “Very engaged in current affairs. There’s been some unpleasantness at home as of late, so he’s been involved in all of that. They’re calling it Brexit and believe me, it’s a nightmare.”

“Goodness,” the angel remarked. “Let’s hope it all turns out well.”

“Yeah,” Crowley agreed. “But other than that we just celebrated sixteen years together. It’s amazing how fast the time goes by.” He looked at the angel and shook his head in reverie. “Every day just gets better and better.”

Aziraphale harrumphed and sat up. “Yes, well, I can’t possibly fathom it. Angels don’t fall in love, you know.”

Crowley made a funny noise in the back of his throat. “Yes, I believe you told me something like that when I was younger. I had a very hard time accepting it. Angels are beings of love, so it seems somewhat antithetical.” He clicked his nails against his wine glass before taking a long drink.

“I’ve been on earth a very long time,” Aziraphale said quietly. “If any angel was going to come close it would be me. And even then...I’ve never even entertained the idea. But I’m so happy for you, of course. It’s nice when humans can find happiness in each other.”

“Uhhh, yep,” Crowley stumbled awkwardly. “More wine?”

“Oh please!” the angel said, leaning forward for a refill.

**1862 AD**

Aziraphale was walking through St. James Park when he spied a familiar redhead leaning over the fence to feed the ducks. Even with his tophat on, Crowley was recognizable from a distance.

“Hello my dear,” the angel greeted him as he came to his side. “Visiting the waterfowl?”

“Oh yes,” Crowley snickered. “My chiefest desire in life is to make sure these ducks are spoiled.”

Aziraphale laughed along with him. “How very good of you. Where are you at now? You look to be in your twenties, maybe thirties?”

“I just turned twenty-nine,” Crowley provided. “And I’m about to embark on my greatest adventure yet.”

“Are you now?” the angel prodded. “Tell me everything!”

“I’d rather show you,” the redhead said mysteriously. He pulled out a little box from his overcoat and handed it over. “I just picked it up in a little antique shop. It’s from the seventeenth century. Fitting for a traveler, don’t you think?”

Aziraphale hesitantly opened the box and spied a fine gold ring engraved on the interior. “Oh,” he breathed. “It’s a posy ring… He pulled it out and read the inscription. “Let liking last.” He teared up a little before hastily pushing it back into its velvet housing. “So I’m to assume-”

“I’m proposing,” Crowley filled in. “Oh, it’s nerve wracking but I’m going to do it as soon as I get back.”

The angel’s breath faltered and he clutched the box tightly, not ready to give it back yet. “And the lucky fellow?”

“His name’s Gabriel Smith,” the redhead announced. “And I’ve never been happier.”

“Gabriel,” Aziraphale repeated. He hated that name.

“He’s American,” Crowley went on as if he’d been asked. “Heads up a tech company based in London. We’ve only been together for a few years but when you know, you know, right?”

“One would assume,” the angel replied. He relinquished the little box and watched it disappear into Crowley’s pocket.

“Egh, I’ve got goosebumps,” the redhead noticed excitedly.

“That’ll be the weather,” Azriaphale said dryly. “It’s getting colder everyday.”

“Angel I’ve got to ask,” Crowley continued. “Do you have any advice for me? I was thinking about dropping the ring into a glass of champagne but that’s stupid, isn’t it? Maybe I could cook him his favorite meal first. I don’t know!”

The giddier Crowley became the stonier Aziraphale felt. “Perhaps you should ask one of your human friends.”

The redhead shrugged and threw another handful of dry bread to the ducks. “I did ask Ana. We’ve been mates since college. She said traditional is best. Just go down on one knee and get it done. But Newt said I should be more creative. Maybe I could put twinkle lights all around the plant shop and set up a cellist or something in advance. Then I could-”

“Dear boy,” Aziraphale interrupted, but he had no idea what else to say. “Sorry. Please go on.”

“Oh, I’m just blabbing away. I don’t have a plan yet. But I will! I just...I never thought I’d end up happy, you know. Being a traveler takes me away at the oddest moments and I’ve always felt so alone, outside of you, of course.”

“Does he know?” the angel asked, turning toward him.

Crowley frowned. “Not yet. He wonders where I pop off to from time to time, but I haven’t confessed yet. I mean, what if he doesn’t believe me? What if he thinks I’m crazy? I figured I’d tell him once we were married. That way he can’t back out.” He gave a little chuckle and Aziraphale nodded.

“That’s wise.”

“You think he couldn’t handle it? That he wouldn’t want me?” Crowley asked.

Aziraphale weighed a few thoughts in his mind before responding. “I think it would be hard for anyone to comprehend. I’m an angel and I scarcely believed it. I do wish you luck in your endeavor. If he’s the right one, he’ll accept it.” The angel reflected on the last few times he’d seen Crowley. The shining gold band on his finger cinched it. “So there’s nothing to fear.”

“Thanks Zira,” Crowley said softly. “Wait, there’s something else.” He dug out a small piece of paper and passed it to the angel.

Aziraphale unfolded the note and read the first two lines before stopping. “Are these..?”

“My vows,” Crowley inserted. “I know it’s silly to be writing them already, but you can never be too prepared.”

The blonde gently folded the paper and handed it back. “I probably shouldn’t. It’s such a private thing.”

Crowley chuffed. “It’s not like you wouldn’t be at the wedding to hear them! I mean...you would, right? You’d come to my wedding?” The redhead’s features twisted anxiously.

Aziraphale was quiet for a beat too long. He gripped the railing in front of him and his knuckles went white under pressure. “I wouldn’t miss it, dear boy,” he said at last. “Not for the world.”

**  
  
**

**-**

_Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference_

_**Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *** _

**1971 Crowley is born**

**1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2**

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1**

**1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2** ****

**1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4**

**1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4** **  
**

**1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3**

**1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4** ****

**1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3**

**1999 Tells Zira about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4** ****

**2000 St. James Park, 1862 AD (29)* CH. 5**

**2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3**

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1**

**2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3**

**2008 French Revolution, 1793 AD (37)* CH. 5**

**2016 Bookshop opening, 1800 AD (45)* CH. 5**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1**


	6. Crowley, 2000-2008 AD

**2000 AD**

Crowley took off work early, heading back home with an armful of potted ficus. He knew this would earn him another lecture from his fiance, but the fig was just too beautiful to leave in the shop. Besides, it would go so well with the monstera and parlor palm in Crowley’s office, though the space was admittedly more of a plant room at that point.

He walked into the flat and set the ficus down, noticing that Gabriel’s jacket was hanging on the coat rack. Crowley smiled in surprise. Gabe told him he’d be working late, but apparently not. The redhead went upstairs and headed toward the bedroom, stopping when he heard a strange sound echo down the hall. Hushed voices were speaking and then there was a groan.

Crowley was suddenly struck by the alarming notion that someone could be robbing the house. What if they were hurting Gabriel? Despite his own fear, Crowley ran to the bedroom door and flung it open. He couldn’t have been less prepared for what he saw there.

Gabriel was kneeling on the bed, balls deep in some stranger’s arse. The unknown man was laying on his stomach as Gabriel spewed filthy phrases at him. On their bed. In their bedroom. In their flat. Crowley clocked each recognition in outrage, unable to accept that Gabriel had any reason to cheat on him. They were going to be married, for fuck’s sake!

Gabriel froze after the man let out a shriek of surprise, and the two of them regarded each other for several seconds.

“Get your shit. We’re over,” Crowley snarled. He didn’t wait for a response, and he certainly didn’t want to hear any excuses. He grabbed his ficus and drove straight to the bookshop.

Not wanting to leave the plant in the car, he hauled the fig with him up the steps and was immediately confronted by a locked door. He banged his fist on the glass but Aziraphale wasn’t in, apparently. Wearily, Crowley turned around and sat on the stoop, ficus at his side. It began to rain a few hours later, but Crowley hardly noticed. He was gutted and numb, unable to stop replaying the recent scene in his mind as if he might extrude something meaningful rather than the dull pain of heartbreak.

Hadn’t they been happy? The thought echoed in an endless loop.

“Crowley?” the angel’s voice rang out, breaking his concentration. “What on earth are you doing out here in the rain? You’ll catch your death of cold!”

The blonde snapped and the shop door swung inward as a large umbrella came to cover his head. “Come on then,” Aziraphale directed, pulling Crowley up and shuffling him inside. The angel popped his head back out to peer at the plant before miracling it indoors as well.

Crowley had made his way to the fireplace and was sitting on the floor, staring at the empty hearth. Aziraphale quickly summoned up a fire and watched as drops of water fell from his hair.

“Crowley, darling,” he said gently. “Won’t you tell me what’s happened?”

The redhead let out a choked sound and half-turned his head toward the angel. “It’s Gabriel,” he said. “He...I caught him at…”

Aziraphale sat down next to Crowley and stared into his eyes as if to guide him along.

“He was with someone else. In our bed. I walked in and-” he broke off and gave the angel a pathetic look.

“Oh, Crowley!” Aziraphale gasped, reaching for him. Crowley launched himself into his comforting embrace and sobbed.

“Shh,” Azriraphale soothed him with whispers and a steady hand rubbing circles into his back. Crowley was struck by a very similar memory as a teen, and wanted to laugh bitterly at the irony.

“We were going to get married!” he blubbered. “I thought...oh, I’m so stupid!”

“You are not,” the angel said sharply. Noticing that they were both soaked by the transmission of rain and tears he performed a quick miracle, summoning a pair of tartan pajamas for the redhead and drying himself. He scooped Crowley up as if he were a child and set him on the sofa. He found the knitted throw and carefully tucked it around Crowley’s shaking body.

“Listen to me now,” Aziraphale began. “I know it seems like everything is hopeless, but I know for a fact that everything’s going to work out as it should. You’ll see Crowley.”

The exhausted redhead let his eyes start to close. “You promise, angel?”

“I swear it.”

Aziraphale ran his fingers through Crowley’s hair and when he was certain the human had finally fallen asleep, he leaned down and pressed a kiss to his brow.

Retiring to his chair, Aziraphale watched Crowley broodingly. It was hard to believe that the redhead and Gabriel could recover after such a blatant betrayal, but the proof was in the past. Crowley was happily married for apparently many years. But what if it wasn’t to Gabriel?

Aziraphale sat forward and clasped his hands together. He couldn’t recall Crowley ever mentioning his husband’s name. For all he knew… The angel let out a frustrated laugh and stopped that thought dead.

For all his years on the planet it had taken him far too long to admit that he was desperately in love with Anthony Crowley. He wondered how Crowley would react to that revelation, were it ever shared with him. It had been five years since the confession in the bookshop, and Aziraphale’s heart still lurched to think of what he’d seen as a necessary rejection.

Crowley had kissed him and it burned brightly, ebbing through the angel’s body and soul. For a second he let himself pretend that it could be real. That it would last. And it was that heartbreaking notion that fueled his angry shove, pushing away the one thing he wanted to hold dear, because he wasn’t supposed to have it. His place was to sit by and watch as Crowley found the love he’d been seeking in somebody else.

The angel blinked and focused on the redhead’s deep rising breaths, stewing in his own misery.

-

Crowley stayed through the next day. And the day after that. And then through the week. Each night the angel would pick him up from the sofa where he’d made a nest of crumpled tissues, and carry him to bed. Sometimes Crowley would wake slightly, murmuring protests before settling heavily in the angel’s arms. He would whimper when Aziraphale tried to leave, his fingers crawling over the sheets to seek him out. “I’m here,” the angel would whisper. He wouldn’t be allowed to go until the redhead was properly asleep once more.

After two weeks of this ritual, Aziraphale began to notice the number of kleenex diminishing. Sometimes Crowley didn’t cry at all. And what was even more puzzling, Crowley seemed to be settling into a content routine.

“Crowley,” the angel was careful to begin, “Have you given any thought to going back?” Aziraphale had simply been miracling over the items Crowley needed, and by that point, he’d all but moved in. The angel had to create an extra room just to hold the redhead’s belongings.

Crowley peeked out from his blanket sheepishly. “Oh. You probably want your space.”

“No,” Aziraphale said quickly. “That’s not what I meant to suggest. I was thinking more about your desires. I can’t imagine being cooped up with me at all hours.”

“I love it,” Crowley answered softly. “I love it here with you.”

The angel’s heart clenched and he was useless in the face of Crowley’s unspoken plea. “Well, my dear,” Aziraphale said. “You can stay as long as you like.” He caught the shy smile Crowley gave him before burrowing back under his blankets.

-

July turned to August, and August to September. It occurred to Aziraphale as Crowley hauled another load of groceries into the shop that perhaps he had no intention of leaving at all. The idea warmed Aziraphale as much as it terrified him. He wasn’t sure how he’d handle it when the redhead finally decided to move on.

Crowley prepared dinner and Aziraphale opened the wine. The scene had become so familiar that it was easy to take it for granted. The angel reached around his housemate to grab a basket of rolls to set on the table while Crowley spun around him to finish prepping the salad, a choreography of domesticity.

Crowley brought the baked chicken and set it carefully in the center of the dining table, standing back to admire his creation.

“Third time’s a charm,” he said, throwing a dish towel over his shoulder.

“You’re certain it’s not burnt from the inside?” Aziraphale teased.

Crowley grabbed his towel and flicked it at the angel, who easily caught it and pulled it his way. Unwilling to give up so easily, Crowley escalated the tug of war until Aziraphale yanked on the cloth and the redhead stumbled forward. Aziraphale caught him easily, holding him stiffly in his arms. Both had been laughing riotously up to that point. The sound of the clock in the next room became thunderous in its absence.

Aziraphale took a deep breath and Crowley opened his mouth to say something, but it was quickly swallowed back down because suddenly they were kissing. Crowley’s hands moved up to Aziraphale’s shoulders, pulling him closer. He made a desperate, guttural sound as the angel’s tongue swept into his mouth.

“Angel,” Crowley panted raggedly when he broke away to catch his breath. His fingers tightened on the blonde’s shoulders as if he might disappear.

“I didn’t uh...plan that,” Aziraphale replied, his blue eyes hooded.

“Okay,” Crowley whispered.

“But I won’t apologize either.”

The redhead licked his lips and watched the angel’s. “No?”

Crowley ducked down to kiss him again and groaned when the angel responded eagerly.

“Yes, please! Aziraphale!” Crowley gasped as the blonde kissed down his neck and pressed him against the wall. “I want you! I need you! Please.”

“What do you need?” the angel asked, his voice rumbling.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley keened. “Say it again.”

“Tell me what you need.”

Crowley grabbed the angel’s hand and guided it to his erection. “This. Fuck, please touch me angel.”

Aziraphale maintained eye contact as Crowley twisted in pleasure. Warm fingers gently massaged him through his jeans.

“Is this okay?” the redhead asked breathlessly. “Is it allowed?”

“What? Rubbing your cock?” the angel asked, dry and wicked.

“Hnn!” Crowley’s eyes rolled back in his head. “Fuck. Oh fuck!” His cheeks flushed and he bit his lower lip as Aziraphale continued to stroke him.

“I need more,” Crowley begged. He practically ripped his belt off and shoved down his jeans in one go.

Aziraphale merely looked down at him, admiring his long, uncut perfection. Crowley went red under his scrutiny and his cock twitched in anticipation. “Please,” he whispered.

The angel’s gaze slowly returned to Crowley’s face. “Kiss me, darling,” he demanded.

The redhead moaned into it, his lips bruising under pressure while Aziraphale’s hand returned, palm eager over supple flesh. Crowley’s body stuttered. Aziraphale was making short work of him. “I’m not going to last,” he realized.

“Good,” Aziraphale growled low into his ear. “I want you to cum because of me.” His tongue lathed over Crowley’s ear and the redhead lost all higher functioning. He cried out as he came, hard and long in the blonde’s hand. He’d never had such a satisfying orgasm, and he stared at the angel long after he was done, just trying to catch his breath.

Aziraphale performed a quick miracle to clean up and restore Crowley’s clothes, pressing one last kiss to his cheek. “Dinner’s getting cold,” he said in a rough voice.

Crowley followed him robotically, sitting down at the table as the angel opened their wine. He poured out two glasses and slid one over. The redhead took a large gulp and regarded Aziraphale hesitantly, fingers shaking. “Are we going to do that again?”

The angel didn’t need to ask what he meant. He took a sip of his own wine and batted his lashes. “Yes.”

Crowley let out a quivering sigh and began to cut the roast.

-

That night Aziraphale stayed with Crowley after putting him to bed. He laid down next to him, pulling the redhead into his side. Crowley hummed and his hand rested easily on the blonde’s broad chest. He wanted to ask what it meant. He wanted to confess his love and hear it returned. He wanted that day to never end but roll into a blissful lifetime of the same over and over again. Feeling the thrum of the angel’s heartbeat under his fingers, he savored every second more that he was given.

-

October rolled around the corner and Crowley insisted they go pumpkin shopping to brighten up the bookstore. The air was chilly and their breath came out as hot steam, curling into shared clouds as they huddled together.

“That one,” the redhead demanded, pointing at a great fat pumpkin.

“Really?” the angel asked. “It’s so big!”

Crowley nudged at Aziraphale’s ear with the tip of his cold nose. “That’s how I like them.”

The blonde blinked back at him, a surprised blush creeping over his cheeks. It had been a few weeks since their first sexual encounter and all they’d done was kiss each other goodnight. The tension had been mounting steadily and they both knew the dam wouldn’t hold forever.

Of course Crowley walked out of the patch with the huge pumpkin, struggling to keep his skinny arms around it while Aziraphale drank scorching cocoa from a styrofoam cup. They’d only gone a few blocks from the shop, and navigated their way back just as cold drops began to fall.

Crowley shuddered and dropped the pumpkin on the desk to blow warm air into his hands. The angel reached out and folded them in his own, using a miracle to restore the circulation. He leaned forward and kissed the tip of Crowley’s nose as well, sending a course of heat through the redhead’s body.

“That’s better,” Crowley chuckled. “All cozy now.”

Aziraphale reached up to take the redhead’s jacket, but rather than walk it back to the rack he threw it on a nearby chair. Crowley stared at it in amazement. He hadn’t even bothered to fold it. Aziraphale did the same with his own beloved coat, and it was then that Crowely knew things were about to take a turn. He looked into the blonde’s eyes and froze.

“I’m in love with you,” Aziraphale said. “I’m sorry I haven’t said it the way I should have done a hundred times before. I should have cherished you Crowley, in more ways than one. I should have told you how I felt long ago, but I was convinced you’d end up with someone else.”

“And now?” Crowley asked.

“Now I’m taking a leap of faith that you won’t. Maybe it’s like you said years ago, that it was always us together. That’s what I want, if you still do. I want us. I want this life together.”

“Zira,” Crowley's voice cracked and he reached out to steady himself with his hands on the blonde’s chest. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted. You know. You must know I’ve loved you forever.” Crowley’s voice cracked and he began to sniffle.

Aziraphale cradled a tear-streaked cheek in his hand and kissed Crowley’s lips over and over, drawing out soft moans.

“I’m sorry. I know. I made you wait. I made you doubt,” he spoke into the redhead’s mouth. “Never again.”

The angel’s wings manifested and a glorious light filled the shop. Crowley gawked at him, breathless at the sight.

“Beautiful,” he managed, whispering faintly. “So beautiful.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley in and tugged at his jumper, revealing his pale, muscled torso. His fingers dug into the downy auburn hair of his chest while his nails scraped over dusky pink nipples.

“Zira,” Crowley said desperately. “Make love to me, please.”

The blonde growled, kissing down his body and pulling off their clothes as he went. He helped Crowley out of his boots and jeans, stopping to press one reverent kiss to his knee. The redhead shivered and led the angel to the couch.

“Here?” Aziraphale asked, thinking of the empty bed upstairs.

“Everywhere,” Crowley answered. He shot the angel a naughty grin and Aziraphale exhaled in surprise.

Crowley pushed him down and straddled his lap, their bodies pressing together for heat and comfort. His fingers smoothed over the angel’s shoulders and carded through his feathers, making them both moan.

“Say you’re mine,” the redhead begged. “Tell me I have you.” He reached down and gripped both of their erections in one hand, marveling at them together at last.

“I am,” Aziraphale struggled to speak. “You do.” He forced himself to look up into Crowley’s eyes and was filled with wonder. He knew that face. He’d seen it before. “Are you happy?” he asked, lungs filling until he thought he might burst.

Crowley nodded and new tears glistened in his eyes. “Incandescently,” he said.

**2001 AD**

Crowley disappeared just after his birthday in April, and Aziraphale tried to stay calm, but it was the first time he had traveled since they’d been together officially. He struggled to do the math in his head, calculating that Crowley was now thirty years old. But as much as he’d run into him over the years, it didn’t preclude occasions when the angel might not have seen him. He twisted his hands together and waited, as he didn’t have much choice otherwise.

Two days later, Aziraphale he heard a loud crash upstairs. He ran up to the flat, taking two steps at a time before bursting through the door. Crowley was on the ground, struggling to remove his black doublet.

“Oh, hello angel!” he said cheerfully. “I’ve just been-”

“At the Globe!” Aziraphale finished for him. “Thank goodness! I wasn’t sure if you’d gone back to me or ended up elsewhere.” He skipped over and helped Crowley with the endless line of buttons at the front of his jacket.

“What do you mean elsewhere?” Crowley sighed in relief as he was finally relieved of the tight garment. “I never go anywhere without you.”

“I know you’ve said as much before,” the angel said. “But once you were gone I started to worry. Are you sure you haven’t traveled apart from me?”

Crowley sat up and began to work on removing his breeches. “I’m sure. Great Plan, remember?”

“Yes, of course,” Aziraphale fretted. “Just promise me you’ll find me. No matter what.”

The redhead grasped the angel’s arm tightly. “I promise, my love.”

**2004 AD**

Crowley vanished again a few years later, just as he and Aziraphale were getting out of the shower. Crowley had barely wrapped a towel around his waist and within the blink of an eye, he was gone. This time Aziraphale was a little less anxious since the towel was a dead giveaway, but it took over a week for his partner to return.

“You are such an arse!” Crowley complained as he strolled into the kitchen, pressing a quick kiss to the angel’s cheek.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale replied as he surveyed Crowley’s Egyptian garb as confirmation. “I’m afraid I might have been.”

The redhead poured himself a glass of wine and leaned against the doorframe. “I tried to explain everything to you even though I knew it wouldn’t work. You’d already told me as much when I was a boy. It’s just so difficult to divorce the you I know now from yourself in the past. But seriously, you couldn’t even help a guy get a shirt?”

“I thought you were some kind of con artist. Or an agent of Hell. I mean...I didn’t know what to think. Suffice to say, there’s nothing you could have done to convince me.”

“You could at least give me a heads up,” Crowley replied. “You already know where and when I’m going to be, right?”

“Theoretically, or to the best of my knowledge. But you’ve come and gone at different ages, so my past is also your future.”

“Think hard, angel. Where did you see me after Egypt?”

Aziraphale shut his eyes, trying to concentrate. “Jerusalem, a few times, but we didn’t interact. The Crucifixion, of course. Rome, during the reign of Caligula.”

“What about after that?” Crowley prompted.

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale fussed. “England? At some point during the Middle Ages?”

“Can you seriously not remember?” the redhead snapped.

“It’s not that easy!” the angel pouted defensively. “I’ve lived through six millenia!”

“Ack! Okay. I’m sorry. Now I’m being an arse. I’m going to take a hot bath, angel.”

Aziraphale watched him go wearily. He sincerely wished he’d kept a diary.

**2006 AD**

They were coming up on six years, and Crowley knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He stared through the windows of the jewelry shop longingly, finally decided to go in. The attendants were more than helpful, offering several suggestions to choose from, and in the end he settled on a pair of plain bands. White gold for the angel, and traditional gold for himself. He hummed to himself as he carried the boxes home, slipping into the shop before Aziraphale could notice his bag.

“Is that you Crowley?” the blonde called.

“Mm, yeah! Just a sec!” Crowley escaped upstairs and hid the rings under the bed, smiling gleefully. He couldn’t wait to set up the actual proposal. There’d be flowers of course, and a delicious meal...perhaps the Ritz! Oh, how the angel would love that.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called again.

“Be right down!” he promised.

Aziraphale waited for another five minutes before walking up to the flat. He searched through every room, finding them all empty. It looked like dinner was going to be delayed.

-

It was nearly midnight before Crowley returned, but he looked content as he crawled into bed.

“What sort of time do you call this?” the angel grumbled.

“Sorry,” the redhead answered. “Just popped off to the sixth century for a bit of fun. Had dinner with a very handsome man. I have to admit I got him out of his armor first.”

“Hmph,” Aziraphale responded, holding up his book.

Crowley’s mouth curled into a smile. “Are you...jealous? Of yourself?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the angel replied shortly.

“Ah!” Crowley cried. “You are! You think I’m cheating on you with you!”

“I do not!” Aziraphale huffed. “I was there, after all. Just...mind the flirting.”

“The flirting!” Crowley laughed. “Oh yes, I suppose I did kiss your foot. Kinky.” He buried his face in the angel’s neck and began to kiss his throat.

“Stop it,” Aziraphale frowned. “I’m mad at you.”

“And I love you,” the redhead murmured. “Let me make it up to you.”

His hand snuck under the blankets and the angel gasped.

-

Crowley lasted only three more days. It seemed like a lifetime, and he found himself jumping each time the angel addressed him.

In the middle of the restaurant after a fine meal, he got down on one knee as Aziraphale held a hand over his mouth.

The diners looked on fondly as the blonde began to cry, not seeming to believe the moment was really happening. The redhead before him promised over and over that yes, it was. This was real. This was them.

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered that night, their bodies contorting to the soundtrack of Crowley’s breathless gasps.

**2007 AD**

The wedding was beautiful. Aziraphale had spent so much time planning it that every detail was perfect. From twinkle lights and delicious food to a relaxing jazz band and a small party to help them celebrate.

“You’ve really outdone yourself,” Crowley commented. His black suit contrasted with the angel’s ivory, matching their personalities. They were dancing slowly, the only two on the floor.

“I was afraid you might not show up...or disappear on me,” Aziraphale admitted. “Thank you for staying.”

The redhead smiled. It wasn’t as if he could control it. “Don’t mention it,” he replied. “Angel, this has been the most wonderful day of my life. I can’t believe I got to share it with you.”

Aziraphale teared up, and it wasn’t the first or even the fifth time he’d done so that night. “I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve it. I held you at arm’s length for so long, my love.”

Crowley smeared one of the tears falling down the angel’s cheek. “Leave it in the past,” he said soothingly.

“It’s just I…” the blonde sobbed. “I thought you’d married someone else. That’s how it seemed, anyways.”

Crowley scoffed. “Obviously not. I suppose I could just go back and tell you outright, huh? Save us both some misery?”

“Does it work that way?” Aziraphale asked. “I mean...everything’s already happened for me. I imagine there must be some kind of time paradox in there. I don’t want to fool about with it, Crowley! What if you go back and say something that undoes what we have now? No. I won’t allow it.”

The redhead rolled his eyes. “Have it your way, but I am not going to make it easy on you. I’ll do nothing but talk about my brilliant husband and drive you mad.”

“You already have,” the angel said pointedly. “But you’re right. It’s the past. This is now. And I have you here in my arms, exactly where you belong.”

Crowley leaned down and kissed the blonde tenderly. “You do.”

  
-

_Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference_

_**Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *** _

**1971 Crowley is born**

**1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2**

**1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1**

**1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2** ****

**1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4**

**1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4** **  
**

**1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3**

**1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4** ****

**1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3**

**1999 Tells Aziraphale about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4** ****

**2000 St. James Park, 1862 AD (29)* CH. 5**

**2000 C and Gabriel breakup (29) CH. 6**

**2000 Azi and Crowley are finally together (29) CH. 6** ****

**2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3**

**2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1**

**2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3**

**2006 C proposes to Azi (35) Second half CHAPTER 6**

**2007 Azi and C wedding (36) CHAPTER 6** ****

**2008 French Revolution, 1793 AD (37)* CH. 5**

**2016 Bookshop opening, 1800 AD (45)* CH. 5**

**2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1**

**2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1**


	7. Aziraphale, 1941-1967 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got distracted due to world events!
> 
> This is my last fic, I've decided. This is the story I've always wanted to write. Not the most popular, but it's the one that meant the most to me. You'll see.
> 
> xx

1941 AD

Aziraphale was admittedly in a dangerous situation. He’d entered the church thinking that his “turnabout” was fair play, outwitting the Nazis trying to get their hands on his books of prophecy by employing a double agent. Unfortunately, he’d failed to predict that said agent was actually a reverse double agent, which was naturally confusing and even more shocking.

Just as he came to this realization, the church door creaked and a spindly figure skipped inside. Aziraphale whirled around while the three Nazis in front of him regarded the interloper with befuddlement as he hopped from one foot to another.

“What are you doing?” the angel hissed, walking toward him.

Crowley plucked off his hat and began to twirl it around. “What’s it look like? Stopping you from getting into trouble!”

“No, I mean…” Aziraphale looked down at his feet and shrugged. “What is that?”

“Ah!” Crowley confided. “I’m creating a distraction so you can escape!”

“I’m an angel,” Aziraphale spat, rolling his eyes. “If anyone is in danger here, it’s you! The only distraction you’re providing is that now I have to deal with your nonsense on top of everything else!”

“Excuse me,” the female Nazi said. “But it’s getting late and we really should be killing you all now!”

“No you won’t!” Crowley said boldly, finally stopping his ridiculous dance. “Because a bomb is going to fall in this exact location in less than twenty seconds! If you run now, you just might make it.”

“A bomb?” Aziraphale interjected.

“Yes,” Crowley said, putting his hands on his hips. “Go on then. Miracle one up.”

“I can’t just miracle up a bomb!” the angel objected. “There’ll be hours of paperwork and I’ve already been censored for frivolous-”

“Not frivolous!” the redhead argued. “Alter the course of one that’s already falling. And then you’ve saved a good guy (that’s me, angel) from three Nazi murderers! The bomb will fall only on the baddies, if you catch my drift, thanks to divine intervention.”

“Oh…” Aziraphale said thoughtfully. “That just might work.”

“Good, let’s get on with it then!”

The Nazis began to argue with each other just as the unmistakable sound of an incoming bomb loomed overhead. Aziraphale glanced up right before switching his attention to one of the Nazi men, who was holding the angel’s prophetic books in a leather satchel.

“Oh!” Aziraphale winced. “The books!” He covered his face just as Crowley ran and slid on his knees, stealing the satchel away and covering it with his body as the bomb detonated.

Aziraphale blinked and he was suddenly standing in the rubble, small fires burning all around. He looked at the place where Crowley had been only to see a pile of ash and broken beams in his place.

“Crowley!” the angel shouted, stumbling over the carnage. He heard a small cough and lifted one of the beams, thankful to see the redhead intact. His hair was covered in dust and a few small pebbles cascaded from his shoulders.

“All right then?” Aziraphale asked, trying to help Crowley out of the wreckage.

“Yeah just…” the redhead stood up and handed the satchel over. “Wanted to make sure we saved these.”

Aziraphale stared at the bag, his eyes bugging wide as he considered what Crowley had just done. “Crowley I…” He started and stopped, having gone speechless.

The redhead let out a small chuckle. “Come on angel. Fancy some dinner?” He navigated his way toward the door, shuffling over debris.

Aziraphale watched him go, and found he was unable to move for several beats. And that’s when it hit him like a punch to the gut. How long had he been lying to himself?

Crowley stopped and turned, signaling for him to follow. A band of gold on one finger mocking every soft tendril that had only just found the light, like flowers that open once a century.

“Angel,” the redhead laughed. “Stop mucking about! I’m starving!”

Aziraphale went immediately. And how could he not? He’d go anywhere in that man’s footsteps, til the end of time itself.

-

The pair of them went to a nearby diner, one that refused to close despite the constant threat of German planes. Heavy blackout shades concealed the light within, and Aziraphale’s hand tightened on the satchel as even that thought made him weak.

“Are you alright?” Crowley asked as they settled into a plush booth. “You look pale.” He placed his hand on the table and slid it forward, just brushing the angel’s pinky.

“I’ve had a lot of excitement for one evening,” Aziraphale said tightly. His eyes pinned down Crowley’s fingers, urging them to remain where they were. They did.

A harried-looking waitress approached, taking their orders before retreating back into the kitchen, and Aziraphale forced himself to regain some sense of normalcy. He released the death grip he’d kept on the satchel and sighed.

“You really need to take better care,” he said. “Saving me shouldn’t be one of your priorities.”

“Oh?” Crowley asked. “So you’d rather I left you in the Bastille? Or perhaps let you die in that church?”

“What happens to me is inconsequential,” the angel argued.

Crowley’s hand moved on its own, settling fully over Aziraphale’s. “Not to me.”

“You’re too kind,” the blonde managed, feeling guilty at how much he relished the touch. “I can’t...thank you enough.” He withdrew his hand reluctantly.

The redhead leaned back in his seat and winked. “I’m sure I’ll find some way for you to make it up to me.”

Aziraphale blushed and averted his eyes. “How long have you been here?”

“Four days,” Crowley answered. “Long enough to figure out your convoluted spy game. I saw you meeting with the German woman at the theatre last night. I didn’t like the look of her one bit.”

“Why didn’t you say something then?” Aziraphale asked. “Or hello, at any rate.”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t let me help you,” Crowley grinned. “Such a stubborn angel, always doing what you think is best for others.”

Aziraphale certainly wasn’t having such charitable thoughts in the moment. Instead, he was gazing at Crowley’s soft eyes and remembering how warm his hand had felt. No small part of him wanted to snatch the married man by the collar and snog him until they were both breathless.

Crowley arched an eyebrow as if he could tell exactly what the angel was thinking, but that was impossible.

“You haven’t asked how old I am,” he said.

“Oh,” Aziraphale replied. “It’s funny. I’m beginning to figure it out on my own. Early forties?”

“Just,” the redhead confirmed. “But speaking of the forties, this is about the gloomiest chapter in history that I’ve seen. Wish I could pick and choose, you know. There’s some periods I’d avoid altogether.”

“I’d have to agree,” Aziraphale stated.

“But seeing you in a bevvy of ridiculous getups has been worth it.”

Aziraphale sputtered and looked down at his suit. “What? This is perfectly-”

“Perfect,” Crowley filled in. “Yes, you certainly hit your stride in the Victorian era. You still have that coat, you know.”

Aziraphale flushed with pleasure. “Do I? Oh, jolly good! It’s my favorite, after all.”

“Yes, I’m aware,” Crowley laughed.

The waitress returned, holding two steaming plates that she set before the pair. Finding everything to be as it should be, they tucked in. As they ate, Aziraphale snuck several shy glances Crowley’s way.

“What?” the redhead asked eventually. “Have I got something on my face?”

“Oh, nothing!” Aziraphale said hurriedly. “It’s just nice to have you. Here, I mean.”

Crowley smiled up at him. “You too, angel.”

1967 AD

Crowley leaned against a brick building and lit a cigarette. He’d been in Soho for the last week and was actually considering getting a job to survive. He’d gotten by on meals served at the local church, which was the last place he wanted to be. His most recent experience in one brought back bad memories.

“You should leave.”

Crowley glanced at the man standing before him. He was holding a broom and trying to sweep around him, if not away.

“Sorry?” Crowley asked.

“You’ve been loitering around here for hours,” the man said. “You some kind of rent boy?”

“Why?” the redhead frowned sardonically. “You looking for one?”

The man looked greatly offended and stormed back into his shop, a modest theatre amidst less savory storefronts. Crowley snickered to himself.

“That wasn’t very kind,” a familiar voice intoned.

Crowley turned and spotted the angel, looking beatific, as always. “Zira…” he said softly.

Aziraphale gave him a trembling smile. “You’re quite young."

“Twenty-five,” the redhead replied, looking uncomfortable.

“I-” they both started at the same time.

“You go,” the angel prompted.

“No, please…” Crowley insisted.

The blonde closed the distance between them and pulled Crowley into an unexpected hug. The redhead stiffened for a moment before relaxing. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

“I’ve missed you,” the angel admitted, holding him closer. “Isn’t that silly?”

“No,” Crowley choked out.

“What is it my dear?” Aziraphale asked, stepping back to look at him properly. “Whatever's wrong, you can tell me.”

Crowley stuttered, but couldn’t make his words cooperate.

“Alright then,” the angel said at last. “Let’s head back to the shop, shall we? A nice bottle of wine will set you to rights.”

The redhead went along, supported by Aziraphale’s strong arms. Crowley glanced down at where their limbs intertwined. “Thanks,” he said after a time. “I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” But he knew. Better than before.

They arrived at the shop and Aziraphale snapped, miracling the door open. “Just take a seat, my dear,” the angel instructed. “I’ll be right back with a glorious red I’ve been saving.”

Crowley sniffled and wiped his face on his sleeve, trying to sit up straight on the angel’s sofa. Soon Aziraphale returned and placed a glass in front of him. Crowley drank from it and the blonde sat by his side rather than his usual chair. The alteration was not missed by the redhead.

They sat and drank in silence for a long while, until the bottle was nearly empty and Aziraphale summoned up a second with a wistful look on his face.

“Are you okay?” Crowley asked at last, as if he weren't the broken one.

“I’m fine as I can be,” the angel said. “I’ve been a bit sentimental lately. Perhaps it’s because in only three short years, you’ll be born.”

“Oh right!” Crowley realized. “It’ll be 1976 when you find me.”

“I’m planning to keep tabs on you sooner than that,” Aziraphale said. “But I suppose it makes sense to wait until you’re old enough to understand what you are. Where shall I call?”

Crowley squinted as he tried to remember. “Ufford Street in Southwark,” he said. "We had a little house there across from St. Andrew’s. Nothing fancy.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Aziraphale said. He shifted in his seat to face the redhead straight on. “Are you feeling better?”

Crowley redirected his gaze. “The wine helps. It’s been difficult lately.”

“I understand,” the angel said, nodding in sympathy. “It’s funny how things work out, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Crowley asked, his voice fading out as Aziraphale reached for his left hand. His soft fingers stroked over the bare knuckles, over and over again.

“What do I mean?” Aziraphale questioned. “If I’ve learned anything from your adventures, it’s that there’s such a small window of opportunity sometimes. You blink and you miss it.”

“Zira,” Crowley said, voice wavering. “What are you saying?”

The angel laughed, and it was bright but also hopeless.

“You’re hurting,” Crowley realized. “Something happened and you’re sad. You’re so very sad...”

Aziraphale hummed under his breath.

“I’m hurting too,” Crowley choked. “There was something I wanted and I thought if I just wished hard enough, I could miracle it into existence. The way you do.”

The angel’s hand retreated into his lap. “If only it could be that easy. But there’s a plan. I have to trust in that.”

“The Great Plan,” Crowley repeated, broken. “I thought I’d figured it out, you know. Finally got to the bottom of it... But that’s when everything went pear-shaped. How can I trust in something that I don’t understand?”

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale said uselessly. “You just do.”

Crowley sighed and the pair of them finished off the rest of the second bottle and nearly a third before the redhead started to fade. He wasn’t sure when he’d started leaning toward Aziraphale, or when his face became buried in the angel’s chest. All he knew was that he could feel the blonde’s fingers combing through his hair, and the soft whispers that were soothing him to sleep.

"Shh, love. Faith will guide us out. I believe...I don't know what I believe anymore. I want..."

Aziraphale's voice failed him, but he knew the end of that sentence, even if he couldn't speak it out loud.

-

Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference

Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *

1971 Crowley is born

1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2

1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1

1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2

1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4

1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4 

1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3

1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4

1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3

1996 Soho, 1967 AD (25)* CH. 7

1999 Tells Aziraphale about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4

2000 St. James Park, 1862 AD (29)* CH. 5

2000 C and Gabriel breakup (29) CH. 6

2000 Azi and Crowley are finally together (29) CH. 6

2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3

2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1

2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3

2006 C proposes to Azi (35) Second half CHAPTER 6

2007 Azi and C wedding (36) CHAPTER 6

2008 French Revolution, 1793 AD (37)* CH. 5

2011 England, 1941 AD (40)* CH. 7

2016 Bookshop opening, 1800 AD (45)* CH. 5

2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1

2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1


	8. Crowley, 2009-2013 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Getting close to the end! xx
> 
> Heads up for some major angst and descriptions of violence/suffering. Everything darkest before the dawn.

**2009 AD**

Crowley tumbled out of bed and rolled into an unrelenting wall. The creaking of wood and the muffled shouts of men rose above the clamor of wind, waves, and turmoil on the open sea. Crowley smelled it before he put the pieces together in his mind. The salt of the ocean filled his mouth, and he scrambled to stand, escaping the water that was pouring in.

He grabbed hold of a suspended hammock as his balance veered to the left, and then the right. It was dark other than a few flashes of lightning, but it was clear enough that he was in an abandoned crew cabin. All of the men must be topside, fighting the angry storm.

Having no real nautical skills, Crowley was tempted to stay down in the bowels of the ship, but he also knew that Aziraphale must be nearby. What if he was in trouble? The angel might need his help, and as always, Crowley was willing to give it.

The redhead made his way toward a short set of narrow steps, but getting up them was easier said than done. He’d never been seasick before though the lurching of the vessel was enough to make him glad he’d not eaten recently. He’d been fast asleep with his angel, actually, and was already missing their downy bed.

He climbed to the top and jumped toward the closest shroud. He grabbed the web of ropes suspending down the side, linking his elbow through it for support.

Crowley could barely see through the torrential rain, but caught glimpses of crewmen running from place to place. Looking up, he could discern that he was on some kind of large sailboat, one that he immediately associated with pirates or colonial naval fleets.

“Aziraphale!” he cried out into the night. “Where are you?”

He turned his head just in time to see a massive wave cascading over the deck, and doubled down on his grip. The seawater consumed him for a moment, freezing his already soaked frame, but it didn’t take him with it when it subsided. Sadly, that fate belonged to another man.

A crewman ran past Crowley and threw a rope out to sea, trying to regain his mate. The redhead watched in terror, realizing that the same could happen to him or the angel. He had to find him.

Crowley released his life support and ran to the far end of the ship, closer to the wheel. He looked up to see three men, but none of them were Aziraphale. Growing more concerned, Crowley burst into the large cabin directly across from him. The door swung open to reveal the captain’s quarters, which were also empty.

“Angel!” he cried, more to himself at that point. “Angel, please!”

A great cracking sound thundered in his ears and he turned just in time to see the mast fall, splintered by the relentless winds. Men dodged around it, shouting to each other in an unfamiliar language. Crowley braced himself in the doorway, sobbing as he took in the chaos. There was no escape from this situation. Nowhere to go but the boiling sea.

Another wave began to rise and Crowley stared on in horror. This one was three times larger than the last, and loomed on the precipice like a monster emerging from the ocean. He swallowed hard, frozen in fear.

“Zira…” he whispered. And then the wave crested.

-

Crowley woke up struggling to free himself from the powerful stranglehold of the sea, tangled up in his own limbs as his body rolled in the water.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale shouted. “Crowley, listen to me!”

The redhead’s fingers curled around warm arms, and he felt himself being pulled up. He choked, spitting out water in his own bedroom. His pajamas were soaking wet.

“Where did you go?” the angel demanded. “Are you alright? Talk to me, darling!”

Crowley shook in his arms, trying to get his bearings. “I’m home?”

“Yes, darling,” Aziraphale promised. “You weren’t gone long. Maybe twenty minutes.”

Crowley calmed himself down slowly by focusing on his breathing. He was okay. He was safe. “I was so scared!” he let out, giving over to the angel’s hold.

Aziraphale cradled him as he curled into a little ball. “I’ve got you now.”

The angel eventually moved, taking Crowley to the bathroom. He helped peel off the redhead’s wet clothes and brought him clean, dry pajamas. Afterward, Aziraphale ran a towel through his hair, humming as he erased the signs of Crowley’s encounter one by one.

“Will you tell me where you were?” he asked.

Crowley nodded. “On a boat. Somewhere. Sometime. I don’t know.”

The angel scooped him back up and carried him to bed. “And you fell out?”

“N-no,” Crowley responded. “There was a storm. The waves were crashing into the ship.”

Aziraphale frowned and Crowley caught his eye, acknowledging what the angel was already thinking. “You weren’t there.”

Aziraphale pulled Crowley down and snuggled into him from behind. “But you’re back now. Nothing happened. You’re unharmed.”

“Yeah,” the redhead sniffed. “M’fine.”

They laid together for a long while, silently reconciling their mutual fears.

“So that’s the first time,” the angel said at last. “The only time you’ve traveled without me…”

“I’ve always seen you, even if I didn’t speak to you,” Crowley offered.

“Yes?” Aziraphale asked, his mood lightening. “Have you preferred to spy on me then?”

Crowley let out a warm chuckle and turned to face his husband. “I might have...on occasion.”

The angel cocked an eyebrow and waited expectantly.

“There could have been a time, when I was a teenager, that I learned angels can, in fact, dance.”

Aziraphale’s jaw dropped. “No!”

Crowley smiled wickedly. “It turns out there was a discreet gentlemen’s club in the late 1880s that attracted a certain clientele-” he began.

The blonde was quick to cut him off. “But how? Nobody saw you?”

“I appeared under a table,” Crowley explained. “And everyone there was a bit distracted. Yourself included. What was it called? The Gavotte?”

“This conversation is over,” Aziraphale huffed. “Unless you’ve got something else you need to confess?”

“Not just yet,” the redhead giggled. He pulled the angel in for a sweet kiss and sighed, losing his easy smile.

“What if it happens again?”

Aziraphale fretted with Crowley’s hair, smoothing out a tangle. “I don’t know,” he whispered. He thought silently for a beat and tutted. “But I’m not going to lose you, Crowley. You must know I’d never let that happen.”

Crowley let his eyes close and he tried to push the worry from his mind. He certainly wanted to believe it.

**2011 AD**

Crowley snuck across the room and put his hands on the angel’s hips. “Miss me?” he whispered.

Aziraphale half turned and gave him a concerned smile. “Of course I did. I tried to reach out to see where you’d gone.”

“And?” Crowley asked.

“All I could pick up on was somewhere in the general vicinity. Was I close?”

Crowley nodded. “Second World War.”

“Oh,” the angel blinked, lashes fluttering as he rested one hand over his chest. “At the church?”

“That’s the one,” Crowley said. “You were acting a bit unusual. I could have sworn at one point that you wanted to...well...you told me not to flirt with past versions of yourself.” He rested his chin on the blonde’s shoulder and hugged him from behind.

Aziraphale made a soft sound in the back of his throat. “That was the day I realized I was in love with you.”

“What?” Crowley squawked. He released the angel and pulled on his arm so that they were face to face. “Say that again!”

“You clearly heard me,” Aziraphale reprimanded.

“Oh no!” Crowley persisted. “You do NOT get to drop something like that on me four years into our marriage!” He began to pace the shop frantically.

Aziraphale subtly rolled his eyes. “It’s not that shocking.”

“No?” Crowley mocked. “You told me you’d loved me for a long time, NOT, and I must emphasize this, NOT before I was even BORN!”

“What are you implying?” the angel asked.

“That I was right!” the redhead grinned manically.

“Oh, Lord,” Aziraphale turned and began to walk out of the room, but Crowley followed hot on his heels.

“You remember that fight we had! I was twenty-three. You’d just stumbled upon me and that guy in the alley-”

“Whoah!” Aziraphale warned. “I am not interested in discussing-”

“Not that!” Crowley sneered. “The argument! I said ‘I know,’ and you were like ‘know what’ and I said, ‘I know you know,’ and-”

“What on earth are you rambling on about?” the blonde whined.

“The fact that you loved me! All the way back then! And apparently, even before that.”

“So?” the angel looked exasperated.

“So I was right!” Crowley hissed. He began to do an obnoxious victory dance and Aziraphale quit the room.

“Don’t feel bad angel!” he called after him. “I was thinking of you the whole time!”

“What whole time?” Aziraphale called back.

“With that bloke!” Crowley said loudly. “The one that was sucking my-”

Crowley found himself pinned to the closest wall with an armful of jealous angel. “Shall you finish that sentence or shall I finish you?” The redhead’s eyes bulged and he licked his lips as Aziraphale went to his knees.

**2014 AD**

Crowley took a few steps back as he admired a sculpture at the Tate, and submerged his right foot in six inches of water. Turning around in surprise, he saw that he’d been relocated to a sandy beach and had stepped into the soft waves lapping at the shore.

“Shit,” he muttered, peeling off his soaked trainer and sock. At least it was warm enough outside, even though the sun was sinking low on the horizon. He trudged barefoot along the coastline, taking in the various cottages and fading fences along the way. He came to one that was homier than the others, a soft, buttery yellow house with light blue shutters.

He leaned against the fence dividing him from the cottage and took in the pristine landscaping and happy little shell garden by the door. A hammock strung between two large trees swayed gently in the wind, big enough for two. The door opened and Crowley nearly missed it, lost in the strings of fairy lights that wound subtly around the low-hanging branches.

“Crowley,” a familiar voice beckoned. The redhead looked up and laughed.

“Of course,” he said. “This place looks like you. Renting out a vacation home, angel?”

The blonde took a step forward and stopped. “This can’t be possible.”

“Zira?” Crowley asked tentatively. “What’s wrong?” He looked frightened.

“I didn’t think…” Aziraphale came closer and hugged himself. “Can you really be here?”

“Where...is here?” the redhead asked, looking around. “Or when?”

“Crowley…” the angel began uncertainly. “It’s 2065.”

“W-what?” Crowley stammered and then laughed. “Well that’s...interesting. Never traveled ahead before. I must be…” He did the math in his head and paled, forcing a smile. “You got me bundled up inside, angel? Taking care of me in my old age?”

Aziraphale’s eyes veered away and he clasped his hands over his stomach. “Oh, well you see…”

A light switched on behind him, illuminating the interior of the cottage. A dark figure swept through the dining room, moving fast. Much too fast for a senior citizen. Crowley opened and shut his mouth a few times as realization sunk in.

“Of course you’d move on,” he said tightly.

“No!” the angel said suddenly. “You don’t understand-”

Crowley gripped the fence and tried to hide the tears forming in his eyes. “Nothing lasts forever angel, barring you. I’m glad of it. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Listen, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, moving until he was in reach. “There’s something important you need to know. I need you to do something for me when you go back.” There was a loud crash inside the house and the angel looked back nervously.

“What is it angel?” Crowley whispered. “Who’s inside? Are you in danger?”

“Not me!” Aziraphale hissed. “It’s you! I didn’t realize until now that this is how it happens! A few years after our tenth anniversary...you must listen to me, my darling. The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end. You’ll show me this…” He bent down and drew two symbols in the dirt. “The alpha and the omega,” he said, eyes shining.

“Zira,” Crowley said anxiously. “You’re scaring me now. What is this? Why would I give you some cryptic warning?”

“I don’t know why!” the angel cried out. “But I know it’s the only way-”

A bang sounded from inside the cottage and Aziraphale backed away. “I have to go,” he said. “But don’t worry my darling. If you do as I say, everything will be alright. Do you understand?”

The redhead frowned in frustration. “This is stupid! You already know what happens! Why not just tell me?”

Crowley looked down as the fence dematerialized under his fingers and he found an abstract bronze had taken its place.

“Do not touch the art, sir!” a guard said sternly. Crowley immediately lifted his hands in the air.

**2017 AD**

Crowley stared at the menu for too long, prompting his husband to clear his throat.

“What’s that?” the redhead asked. He shook his wrist, trying to get used to the watch Aziraphale had given him. A high-tech, gadgety device that looked more like a time belt constantly rotating.

“You’re getting distracted again,” the angel tutted. “Why don’t you just get what you always get?”

“Mm,” Crowley articulated. “Yes, maybe I should.”

They had been to the Ritz on several occasions since their engagement, but this time it was even more special. They were celebrating their tenth wedding anniversary.

“You look beautiful tonight,” the redhead interjected, setting his menu on the table. Aziraphale flushed and batted his lashes.

“I look the same way I always do.”

“Exactly.”

They exchanged glances as they sipped their champagne, and only spoke again when the waiter arrived. Once she was gone, Aziraphale busied himself with rearranging the napkin in his lap.

“I had the most peculiar notion the other day. About what we might do once you’re ready to retire.”

Crowley smirked. “I’m forty-six years old. It seems a bit early to be thinking that far ahead.” It was only sort of a lie. He thought about his trip into the future almost obsessively. He still hadn’t found the courage to tell his husband. What would that conversation even look like? It was too painful to imagine.

“I don’t know,” Aziraphale decided. “It doesn’t hurt to speculate. Do you think you’d like to get out of London? We could travel.”

The redhead tilted his chin and looked longingly at his angel. “Whatever you want. I don’t care as long as we’re together.”

“Oh,” the blonde sighed happily. “Yes, my darling. But there must be someplace you’d like to go?”

Crowley smiled wistfully though his heart lurched. “A cottage maybe. Somewhere we can wile our days away. Shop at local stores. Tend a garden.”

“That sounds lovely,” Aziraphale agreed. “I admit I’ve had similar thoughts before about heading to the South Downs.”

Crowley blinked. Is that where he had been? He coughed as he took too large a swallow of his drink. “I guess we could look into it.”

They enjoyed a delicious meal, Crowley’s eyes lingering on every small gesture made by his angel. The way he arranged his pinky when he lifted a glass, the warm smiles he offered across the table, the way the light hit his platinum curls. Crowley wondered if it was possible to fall in love a second time. Perhaps a third, fourth, and fifth. Maybe it never ended.

-

Aziraphale unlocked the bookshop and hung his coat by the door. “You’ve been looking at me all night,” he blushed. “Is there something on your mind?”

Crowley slid into the blonde and trapped him against the wall. “Now that you mention it…”

Their lips met and Crowley groaned into the kiss, his hips already pressing their bodies together. Crowley wondered vaguely about how many times they’d made love. A haggard cry in his brain pushed further...how many more times would they get?

He pushed his tongue inside the angel’s mouth like a hungry animal. He usually preferred to unwrap the blonde slowly like a present, but tonight he couldn’t get rid of their clothing fast enough.

“Oh!” Aziraphale shuddered when the redhead’s tongue tripped down his chest and stomach. “Crowley! I-” His voice failed him when Crowley swallowed him down, hands pushing against his hips to hold him still against the wall.

The angel allowed it until he didn’t, easily drawing Crowley up with a firm grip on his hair. The redhead protested only for a moment, when he realized Aziraphale was guiding him back to the desk. The blonde lifted him easily and snapped in the air. Crowley felt the effect immediately, and opened his legs to accommodate.

He laid down on the desk and let Aziraphale take him, whispered encouragements blending into astonished gasps. Why was it always so good?

**2018 AD**

Crowley woke up in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. The angel beside him reached out, sending a small blessing to soothe his husband’s nerves.

“Was I gone?” he asked blearily, rubbing at his eyes.

“No, darling,” Aziraphale said. “You’ve been right here all night.”

“Okay,” the redhead breathed heavily. “Okay.” He began to shake and the angel wrapped him up in his arms. It had been two weeks since he’d seen the Ark, and he couldn’t get Aziraphale’s words out of his head about the injury. It weighed on him.

“Bad dream?” the blonde asked.

“I don’t know,” Crowley moaned. “I can’t...I can’t remember?” He curled into a ball and sobbed uselessly, all of his latent fears boiling to the surface. When he’d calmed down, Aziraphale kissed his shoulder tenderly.

“Something’s been bothering you,” the blonde whispered. “I can feel it, Crowley. Why won’t you talk to me?”

Crowley whimpered in the dark. “If I say it...it’ll come true, angel. I don’t want it to come true!”

“You’re not making any sense, darling. What’s happened? You’ve been so moody and I’m getting worried.”

Crowley shook his head and turned toward his husband. He had to trust in him, if nothing else. Slowly, haltingly, he drew two symbols on the angel’s palms with his finger.

**2019 AD**

Crowley jumped at every sound and feared falling asleep at night. He’d grown so watchful, that when it finally happened he was almost thankful. Almost.

He knew he’d traveled, but he was too scared to open his eyes. Frightened whispers rang in his ears, and the sound of someone shrieking. He shivered and opened one eye, coming face to face with the polished buckle of a leather shoe. He followed the line of sight up a stockinged leg and muted colonial clothing.

“What devilry is this?” their owner boomed from above.

“Witchcraft!” a woman called out. “Hattie Bishop’s summoned a demon!” Voices rose up, joining her accusation.

Crowley shifted his gaze and took in the scene. Puritanical villagers surrounded him on all sides. A timid young woman was standing in a central pulpit facing a magistrate.

“I didn’t!” the woman protested. “I can’t have! I’m no witch!”

“Liar!” the man near Crowley shouted. “Mary White claims she saw you dancing with the devil himself! Flaming red hair, she said, and a long, sinuous frame.” The man leaned down and pinched Crowley’s chin between his thumbs. “No man has golden eyes like these.”

“Please…” Crowley attempted. “I’m only a traveler passing through. I mean you no harm!”

The man hovering over him stood and spat. “The devil’s lies. Explain that contraption on your wrist! How do you call numbers from the air?”

Crowley glanced at his watch and cursed. “It’s nothing!” he protested. “A children’s toy! Please!”

“I’ve seen and heard enough,” the magistrate interrupted. “Hattie Bishop. I sentence you to hang.”

“This is madness!” a middle-aged man shouted. “There’s no such thing as witches! You’re condemning an innocent woman!”

“Silence, minister!” the magistrate commanded. “We’ve heard your views, yet you’ve proven nothing! Here, in this courtroom, we’ve seen the evidence for ourselves! How else do you explain the sudden appearance of one who matches Mary White’s description?”

“I...I can’t,” the minister said, “but I know in my heart that these trials are a sin against men!”

Laughter rose up in the courtroom, and the magistrate stood to call for order. “The ruling stands!” he hissed.

“And this one?” the man near Crowley demanded. “What shall we do with him?”

The magistrate narrowed his eyes. “Tie him to the stake and burn him. Send him back to Hell where he belongs.”

Crowley cried out as he was yanked to his feet and dragged from the building. A series of outdoor cells waited on the other side, and he was unceremoniously thrown into one of them. He landed on the hay lining of the interior, manhandled but otherwise unharmed. He tried to get up before the door shut, but the sound of the lock engaging came too soon. He was trapped.

Crowley huddled into one corner for warmth, praying that his angel was near. Maybe Aziraphale would show up and fix this before it was too late. Maybe he’d find his own escape or talk the prosecutors out of killing him. He sniffed hard and concentrated on staying calm. It was fine. Everything would be fine.

A child’s bright green eyes appeared behind the small rectangular opening of the door. Crowley watched them blink curiously.

“Hello,” he said softly.

The child looked away before returning. “Is it true?” she asked. “Are you a monster?”

“N-no,” the redhead swore. “I’m just a little different. You don’t need to be scared.”

“I’m not,” the girl huffed. “You’re in there and I’m out here.”

Crowley’s eyebrows raised and he nearly laughed, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Are you scared?” she asked.

Crowley nodded and a desperate thought came to him. “Listen. Have you seen a man around your village with hair as white as snow? He’s a bit funny and he’s very kind. Some might say he looks like an angel.”

The girl bit her lower lip and shook her head.

“Oh,” Crowley breathed, losing his focus for a moment. “Oh, please! If you...if you see someone like that will you bring him here?”

“Okay,” the girl said, and the redhead blessed her a thousand times in his mind.

“Sarah!” an angry voice shouted. “Get away from there!”

Crowley blinked and the little girl was gone.

-

Hours passed, and soon night fell. Crowley dozed off and on, feeling delirious from the heat of his cell. He was so weak by the time the door opened, he couldn’t resist his handlers. The men didn’t speak, but dragged the redhead along the dusty ground by his arms. It seemed to go on forever, until at last they dumped him in the dirt and he was able to gaze up at the stars overhead.

He could hear various sounds that made little sense to him, and then a man, the minister from the courtroom was crouched at his side.

“Do you wish for me to administer the last rites?” he asked.

Crowley could barely turn his head to look at the man properly. “I’m an atheist,” he gasped out, followed by a breathy laugh.

The minister didn’t seem to understand his meaning, or perhaps Crowley’s words were barely above a whisper. He laid one hand on Crowley’s chest. “I will pray for you,” he promised.

The minister backed away as the burly men returned, delivering swift kicks and punches to their prisoner. Crowley grunted under the attack, trying to roll into a ball to protect himself.

“Some demon,” one of the men derided.

“Careful,” another said. “He might be trying to trick us.”

Crowley felt himself lifted, and was carried to a platform surrounded by thick bundles of dry sticks. He was fastened to a column in the center, and only then did he realize that the villagers were standing around the pyre, waiting anxiously in the shadows.

“Please,” Crowley tried again. “I’m just a man.” He scanned the faces in the crowd, looking for a sign of recognition or any chance of hope, and found none. Had Aziraphale even been to North America during this time period? He’d never thought to ask. He tilted his head to one side and watched a group of villagers light their torches, casting an orange glare on everything around them.

The magistrate stepped forward from the crowd, a smug grin on his face. “We will banish you from the earthly realm,” he vowed. “Until your body is burnt and no ashes remain. We will cast you back to the underworld, back to the pit you crawled out of. As God is my witness, we will exorcise you, demon.”

Crowley began to cry and shake as the torch-bearers approached. He could feel the heat even as they lit the kindling. Was this how he was going to die?

He willed himself to focus. To think harder! He’d never been able to travel on command, but what if he could? What if in the face of his own demise he could take himself away? The fire licked at his feet and he could see it devouring the wood below.

“Go!” he shouted to himself. “Do it! Now!”

The fire grew higher and he struggled with his bonds. The rope twisted and pulled at the skin on his wrists.

“Please!” he cried out. “Now!”

The flames reached him and he screamed.

-

Wait, what? A comprehensive guide to Crowley’s time traveling. The categories are divided by: The year in his present time, event description, year of event, Crowley’s age, chapter reference

Important life events are now included! Time travel will be indicated by *

1971 Crowley is born

1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2

1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1

1986 Watches Azi do the Gavotte, 1887 AD (15)* CH. 8 (Referenced)

1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2

1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4

1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4

1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3

1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4

1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3

1996 Soho, 1967 AD (25)* CH. 7

1999 Tells Aziraphale about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4

2000 St. James Park, 1862 AD (29)* CH. 5

2000 C and Gabriel breakup (29) CH. 6

2000 Azi and Crowley are finally together (29) CH. 6

2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3

2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1

2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3

2006 C proposes to Azi (35) Second half CH. 6

2007 Azi and C wedding (36) CH. 6

2008 French Revolution, 1793 AD (37)* CH. 5

2009 The storm at sea, Unknown time period (38)* CH. 8

2011 England, 1941 AD (40)* CH. 7

2011 Azi admits he realized he loved C in 1941 (40) CH. 8

2014 South Downs, 2065 AD (43)* CH. 8

2016 Bookshop opening, 1800 AD (45)* CH. 5

2017 10 yr wedding anniversary (46) CH. 8

2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1

2019 Salem Witch Trials, 1656 AD (48)* CH. 8

2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1


	9. Aziraphale, 2019-2065 AD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At long last! Thanks for reading :) xx

**2019 AD**

Aziraphale closed his eyes and concentrated, his hands in simultaneous prayer and supplication. He reached out with his angelic senses, trying to feel Crowley nearby. There was nothing. He growled in frustration, but refused to give up. Why didn’t he feel more prepared for this? He’d been practicing ever since Crowley had shared his cryptic message.

He began to pace the shop. He could do better. He could try harder. He reached out again, pushing himself to the limits of his abilities. An image began to form in his mind. He grabbed onto the mental picture, trying to connect it to a real place. He could see colonial houses. Cobblestone roads. A stone wall inset with names that blurred under examination.

“Follow it,” he demanded. “Take me there.” He snapped his fingers, and vanished on the spot.

Aziraphale found himself in front of a large slab. A marble book and a series of strange symbols were beneath it, and under that, words were inscribed into the concrete.

“In memory of those innocents who died during the Salem Village Witchcraft hysteria of 1692.” He read the inscription twice before backing up, and was nearly run over by a cyclist on their cell phone.

“Watch it!” the man barked out in a thick Bostonian accent.

Aziraphale took in his surroundings...the changing streetlights, the modern vehicles. He hadn’t managed to travel through time at all. But he had to be there for a reason, right? He turned his attention back to the memorial. Four large walls rose behind it.

He inspected each one of them, finding quotes from the original victims of the time.

“Amen. Amen. A false tongue will never make a guilty person. Susannah Martin.” He twisted his hands together in consternation. He went to the next, a quote by Rebecca Nurse. “I can say before my eternal father I am innocent and god will clear my innocency.” He cringed. He hadn’t been in Salem during the trials, but remembered hearing word of them. It was difficult to believe that people could invent such a concept as witch hunting, but there it was.

He looked at the following statement and felt ill. “I am only a traveler passing through. I mean you no harm. Anonymous.”

Was that it? Was this what had been coming for Crowley all along? He remembered the redhead mentioning how he occasionally showed up in the wrong place and the wrong time - but this?

“Oh, Crowley!” he cried, covering his face. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t focus. But he had to. Oh, what had Crowley told him? The end is the beginning and the beginning in the end. What utter nonsense was that? And the symbols...he wracked his brain.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” he muttered helplessly. It referred to both Christ and God in Revelation. “I am the beginning and the end.” Oh, why did that sound so familiar? Where had he heard it before?

He cleared his mind, trying to think about the first time he’d met Crowley. It was in the garden, of course. And yes! He’d said something about the end. It hadn’t made any sense to the angel at the time, because they were in the beginning, the first seven days of creation. Crowley had been hurt...burned! On the edge of death. Did that mean he’d escaped Salem after all? And if so…

Aziraphale walked in a circle and came to a halt. He couldn’t go back to Eden to save Crowley. If he could, he’d have already done, right? He’d certainly remember seeing himself pop in over the wall...and Crowley had vanished from the site. Which meant… Crowley traveled at least one more time after that.

“Where?” he shouted, gaining the attention of passing tourists. He couldn’t have cared less.

“If that was the beginning, then what’s the end?” he reasoned. The end of time? The end of the world?

“Fuck!” he screamed.

A police officer nearby began to walk toward him, and Aziraphale hunched down into a ball. He’d already made progress by getting to his current location. He could do it again. He closed his eyes and imagined the end as a concept.

“Take me there,” he whispered, gathering his Grace. “Take me to Crowley.” There was no mental picture this time, only a feeling. A feeling? Another Eden memory came to the surface.

“Sir?” the officer called out, getting closer.

“You’re a being of love,” a voice echoed in Aziraphale’s mind. Crowley’s voice.

“I am,” Aziraphale had told him. He’d been rather proud of it in the moment.

“So you can feel it, can’t you? It’s all around you. All the time.”

The angel hadn’t questioned it for a second. “Yes.”

“Can you feel mine?”

Aziraphale had done. It had nearly knocked him off of his feet, it was so strong. And he hadn’t known at the time how much stronger it would become, once he returned it.

“Follow it!” he chastised himself desperately, digging his nails into the pavement. “I know you’re still here!” He felt something pull in his stomach. It tickled and lurched at the same time.

The officer rounded the slab, ready to remove the mentally ill man from polite society, but there was no one there when he looked down.

-

Aziraphale felt sand underneath his fingers. He pulled up his hands and stared at the grit before whirling around. He was on a beach.

The water lapped at the shore in lazy waves, and a gull called from far away. There was no one else in sight.

He stood up slowly, taking in the endless horizon. He wasn’t sure where he’d ended up, only that it was the right place. But was it the right time? He walked on the uneven terrain, drawing closer to the surf. It was a clear day and he could see for miles. Nothing.

“This has to be it,” he said to himself. “I can’t have gotten it wrong.”

He stood and waited, willing himself to be patient. Something would happen.

A splash sounded and he jerked his head around just in time to see it. A dark mass was floating in the water. He waded in with no hesitation, fighting back the waves with his strong thighs, and then he began to swim. It wasn’t far off shore, and as he closed in, he detected the undeniable auburn of Crowley’s beautiful hair.

“Crowley!” he screamed. He reached out and grasped onto him, holding two fingers aloft to snap. They reappeared on the beach where Aziraphale could lay him down.

“Oh my love!” he gasped. “What have they done to you?”

The damage was more comprehensive than his memory had provided. Having seen much worse since that time, he knew the situation was dire. He pressed down on Crowley’s pulse point, and found a weak heartbeat. It wasn’t too late!

Aziraphale took a deep breath and hovered his hands over his husband’s unconscious form. He could heal him. He could fix this. He harnessed his angelic energy and laid his palms on Crowely’s torso, nodding his head and praying.

After a few seconds, he released his hold and studied the results. Nothing. Crowley was still breathing but unimproved.

“No…” he groused. “That’s not right.” He just needed to try harder.

He moved his hands again, repeating the process with more force. Again, no change.

“Frivolous miracles,” he realized under his breath. It had been highlighted four times on his most recent report.

He laughed out loud rather hysterically. “This isn’t funny!” he shouted into the sky. “I know you can’t be serious! It’s the Great Plan, isn’t it? Why else would you bring us together?”

God didn’t reply, so he tried again, and failed again.

He stood up, stomping in the sand. “I am not going to let you fuck me out of this! Do you hear me? I have spent my whole existence, my entire existence, doing your will! You can give me this! You will give me this!”

He felt electricity running through his veins. He’d never been angrier. After all of it, after everything, he would not accept defeat. “I love this man!” he screamed, tears pouring down his face. “You’ve no right! I’ll Fall before I give him up!”

A rumble of thunder came ominously, and dark clouds began to rise up from nowhere.

“You think you can intimidate me?” the angel shouted. “I’ve spent too long being afraid! Crowley is the only one, do you hear me? The only one that matters to me! I won’t go on without him!”

Aziraphale was seething as he fell to his knees and rolled up his soggy sleeves. “Listen to me, Crowley,” he hissed. “We’re going to do this together, like we always have. I’ll reach for you, and you reach for me. Meet me in the middle, my darling. The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end, right? We are the Alpha and the Omega! We are the Great Plan! I’m coming for you now!”

He held Crowley up, squeezing him tightly as he channeled every ounce of his essence into the man. He cursed. He prayed. He dove deeper than he’d ever done before. And on the other side he could feel the tether. No, he could SEE the tether that had always bound them together. He threw himself toward it, letting it be his guide.

“Follow me,” he whispered. More words from the garden came back to him and he smiled through his tears. “You have somewhere you’re meant to be, don’t you?”

An answering warmth filled his senses, and he sobbed as he recognized the sensation. From the depths of the darkness, a hand reached up and found his own.

-

The rain was pouring down, and it was almost impossible to see. An older woman was walking along, trying to restrain her wayward umbrella. She scowled as she looked out at the sea as if it were personally responsible, and her eyes went wide. Two men were lying unconscious on the beach.

She trudged through the wet sand, calling out to gain their attention. “Coee!” she cried. “Is everything alright?”

Of the two, the blonde man struggled to get to his knees, craning his neck to look up at her. “Tickety-boo,” he groaned before passing out once more.

-

Aziraphale woke up on a large sofa. A crackling fire blazed in the hearth, and an odd-looking woman shoved a cup of tea into his hand.

“My husband had to drag you up from the beach,” she scolded. “Nearly broke his back! What on earth were you doing out there?”

Aziraphale held the mug close, breathing it in before starting. “Crowley!” he gasped. “Did you see-”

“That skinny strip of ginger?” she interrupted. “Upstairs. Chucked him on the bed, we did. Oh, he looked worse for wear.”

The angel nearly dropped his drink as he scrambled up. He tore through the house until he reached the bedroom and flung open the door.

“That you, angel?” a soft voice asked.

Aziraphale ran to his husband’s side and clasped his hand. “It is! And you? Are you well?” He pulled back the bedsheets and marveled at the clean, unblemished skin he saw between the torn parts of Crowley’s clothing. “Darling!”

The redhead grunted as he found himself covered in Aziraphale. Wet kisses rained down on his face and neck. “You’re alive! We did it!”

“Gheh!” Crowley replied, and Aziraphale shifted his bodyweight to accommodate his husband’s breathing.

“How are you feeling?” he demanded instantly.

“Not bad,” the redhead chuckled. “Considering.”

“They tried to burn you!” Aziraphale sobbed.

“Erm. They succeeded, actually,” Crowley admitted. “Lucky I got out when I did. Got to see your old mug for the last time.”

“Stop joking!” Aziraphale cried. “It’s not funny! You were within an inch of your life!”

“Shh, I know. I’m sorry,” Crowley apologized. “We’ve both had a fright, yeah?”

The angel hiccuped and squeezed his husband tightly before releasing him.

“The hell are we?” Crowley asked groggily, sitting up. A strange woman was staring at him from the doorway.

“South Downs,” she piped up. “I’m Tracy, your savior. Well, me and my husband. He did the heavy lifting.”

Aziraphale came to his senses and stood to hug her. “Thank you dear lady! I’m sure we can never repay your kindness!”

“Oh hush,” she chided. “But hopefully that teaches you not to go sea bathing in a hurricane.”

Crowley blinked as if just catching up. “Did you say the South Downs?” He peered at his husband incredulously. The angel knitted his brows together.

“I did,” Tracy affirmed. “Now listen. I’ve just made a nice kettle of tea downstairs. Why don’t you both come back down and sit next to the fire? I’m sure it will warm your bones, if nothing else.”

Aziraphale came back over and helped pull Crowley to his feet. “Sure you’re up to it?” he asked.

“Angel,” the redhead replied. “I’m quite sure I’ve never felt better.”

-

Crowley was introspective as he sipped his tea, and Aziraphale rarely took his eyes off of him. Tracy couldn’t help but notice.

“How long’ve you two been married?” she asked.

“Forever,” Crowley replied, snapping out of his trance. “Thousands of years.”

The angel surprised himself with a laugh, but it was okay to do that now, right? The danger had passed.

Tracy beamed at them. “You hear that Shadwell?” she called into the kitchen.

“Ay?” the man shouted gruffly.

“These two have been married for thousands of years! Guess they’ve got us beat!”

The grizzled man walked into the living room and sat down heavily beside her. “Good thing we saved both of ‘em then. Nearly flipped a coin in this weather.” He didn’t particularly sound like he was joking.

“Have you been here long?” Aziraphale asked politely.

“Twenty years,” Tracy answered. “But Shadwell’s grown weary of the sea.”

“Bloody water,” he piped up. “Salty air. Makes my knees ache.”

“We’ve been talking about moving for some time,” she said. “But I hate to leave the cottage behind. It’s been such a lovely home. I’d rather leave it in capable hands. You two in the market?”

Crowley smiled and laughed. “We’ve a place in London. But it’s funny. We’ve talked about settling down somewhere like this after we retire. That’s a long way off though, isn’t it?”

Aziraphale merely looked at him, and Crowley couldn’t parse the expression. “Excuse me,” the angel said, moving toward the front door. The rain had nearly passed. He turned the handle and walked outside.

“I should go after him,” Crowley said, standing to wrap his blanket around him. Tracy nodded.

Aziraphale was leaning against a beam on the porch, looking out at the water. Crowley approached, closing the door softly behind him.

“Alright?”

“Just thinking,” the blonde admitted. “I can’t seem to stop.” He turned and there were tears in his eyes. “I wasn’t sure we were going to make it, you know.”

Crowley wrapped his arms around his husband, cradling him from behind. “But we did. Bit of a miracle, yeah?” He stared at the yard before a puzzled look came over his face. His arms went limp as he walked down the short steps, unconcerned with the drizzle falling over him.

“Crowley?” the angel asked.

The redhead kept going, moving as if in a trance. He came nearly to the edge of the yard where his hand rested on a damp hammock. A brilliant rainbow was traveling across the sky. The promise after the flood.

“No…” he said to himself in disbelief. He turned around and saw his husband standing under the roof of the porch. His pale white suit contrasted with the yellow paint and blue shutters.

“What is it, darling?” Aziraphale called out.

Crowley made his way back to him, tears glistening in his eyes. “I think I’m ready to retire after all, angel.”

**2020 AD**

“Careful with the books!” Aziraphale hissed, haunting the movers’ steps and moreover, getting underfoot. Crowley chuckled from afar, content to watch his husband’s antics.

Aziraphale had miracled up a spacious library to accommodate his collection, but Crowley had worried he’d miss his little shop. The angel assured him it was quite the contrary. He’d held up a large shell they had found during a walk and set it in Crowley’s hand. “It’s an empty thing,” he had said. “Beautiful in itself and what it stood for. But what made it alive was what was inside.” Crowley had stared at him in adoration before placing it in the garden. The first of many to come.

“It doesn’t hurt that there’s no one to trifle with your things anymore,” Crowley had said wryly. The angel harrumphed as if in denial. Crowley knew better.

-

“Match to the drapes? No one even looks at the drapes!” Crowley complained. They were standing in the middle of the home improvement store and Aziraphale was, quite frankly, making a scene.

“I do!” the angel cried out. “It’s a crucial component of the space!”

“Ah,” the redhead said sarcastically. “Like the doorknobs. And the wainscotting. And don’t forget the everloving backsplash!”

Aziraphale huffed and stormed off while Crowley looked apologetically at the woman who’d been trying to help them choose between ‘Pure White’ and ‘White Dove’ paint.

“Five gallons of this,” he said, picking one at random.

The store clerk looked nervous. “Won’t he be able to tell?”

“If he does, I’ll drink it.”

**2021 AD**

Crowley laid back in the hammock, looking up at the fairy lights they’d strung up on the tree. He tried not to think about the future. The fact that someday, there would be another man in his place, savoring the comfort of the house Crowley and Aziraphale had made a home. It made him angry. And then it made him desperately sad. He focused on the sound of the waves, trying to live in the moment instead.

“Caipirinha?”

Crowley looked up to see the angel standing over him. “Ooh!” he practically squealed. It had been his favorite drink since they’d gone to Brazil. These days they traveled all over, but they always came back to roost at the cottage.

He reached up only to have the drink snatched away at the last minute. “Boo!” he pouted.

“You can drink it inside,” the angel said haughtily. He turned on his heel before flashing a seductive look Crowley’s way. The redhead nearly fell out of his hammock as he scrambled to follow.

**2026 AD**

Aziraphale had a book open in his lap but he wasn’t reading. Crowley had been watching him hold it without turning a page for nearly an hour.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly. His socked feet pushed the book up and away to take precedence in the angel’s lap.

“Oh,” Aziraphale sighed. “It’s strange. You haven’t traveled. Not in all the time we’ve been here.”

“I know,” Crowley smiled contentedly. “I couldn’t be happier about it.”

The angel still looked concerned. “Do you think it has something to do with what happened that day on the beach?”

The redhead thought it over. “I’m not sure. You think your miracle cured me?”

“Our miracle,” Aziraphale corrected. “And I have absolutely no idea. But I’m glad. I don’t want you to go away again. I like it when I can keep an eye on you.”

Crowley snorted and snuggled into his blanket. “Don’t you just?”

**2031 AD**

“I’m not coming out until you close your eyes!” the angel bellowed.

“They’re closed!” Crowley promised. He was sitting at the dining room table with his hands over them. “Ridiculous tradition! It’s not like I don’t know what you’re bringing in!”

Aziraphale scoffed. “You know the general aspects, but not the specifics! Now then, here I come!” He began to hum loudly as he walked into the room, balancing the large cake and being mindful of the flaming candles on top. He set the monstrosity down and finished his song.

“And many more!” he crooned.

Crowley removed his hands and groaned. “Oh look at this rubbish! Is that all sixty of them, then? How am I supposed to blow them out?”

“You’ll manage somehow,” Aziraphale snickered. “Go on, then!”

Crowley rolled his eyes before sucking in a deep breath. As he blew over the flames, he pretended not to see his husband snap his fingers. “Well, that’s it,” he said as the smoke rose up, casting them in shadows. “I’m officially very, very old.”

Aziraphale sat down across from him and reached out his hand to curl their fingers together. “I guess it depends on how you look at it,” he said. “You’re remarkably well-preserved. In fact, my love, you’ve hardly aged a day.” He smiled nervously before looking out the window.

**2061 AD**

Aziraphale bowed his head. “This is hard for me to say,” he began. “But I know I should, even though my words are imperfect. You gave me everything I wanted.” He stifled a sob. “Was I grateful enough? I am, you know, even if you can’t hear me. You’ve had my heart and adoration, always.” His head swiveled to look up at the sky. “And for my faith...thank you,” he whispered. “I haven’t thanked you for that. It was rewarded.”

**2065 AD**

Aziraphale spent most of the morning in the front garden, and had just finished freshening up. He moved into the dining room, humming as he went. The outside world had changed so much, but everything in the cottage was exactly the same. He wouldn’t have had it any other way. He was just about to set up for lunch when something outside caught his eye. Someone was leaning on the fence in the backyard. He walked up to the window and gasped.

Aziraphale paused before glancing up the stairs. No sound came from above. He crept to the door and slipped out.

“Crowley,” he said, standing anxiously on the porch.

“Of course,” the redhead laughed. “This place looks like you. Renting out a vacation home, angel?”

The blonde walked forward and hesitated. “This can’t be possible.”

“Zira?” Crowley asked. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t think…” Aziraphale moved closer and hugged himself. “Can you really be here?”

“Where...is here?” the redhead asked. “Or when?”

“Crowley…” the angel replied. “It’s 2065.”

“W-what?” Crowley stuttered before chuckling quietly. “Well that’s...interesting. Never traveled ahead before. I must be…” He paled and gave the blonde an unconvincing smile. “You got me bundled up inside, angel? Taking care of me in my old age?”

Aziraphale looked back toward the house. “Oh, well you see…” He folded his hands over his stomach nervously.

A light switched on and a shadow passed through the dining room.

“Of course you’d move on,” Crowley noted, looking despondent.

“No!” the angel objected. “You don’t understand-”

Crowley’s eyes glistened and Aziraphale saw his knuckles turning white as he gripped the fence. “Nothing lasts forever angel, barring you. I’m glad for you. I don’t want you to be alone.”

“Listen, Crowley...” Aziraphale grew brave enough to close the distance between them. “There’s something important you need to know. I need you to do something for me when you go back.” There was a loud crash inside the house and the angel looked back once more.

“What is it angel?” Crowley whispered. “Who’s inside? Are you in danger?”

“Not me!” Aziraphale hissed, losing his patience. “It’s you! I didn’t realize until now that this is how it happens! A few years after our tenth anniversary...you must listen to me, my darling. The end is the beginning and the beginning is the end. You’ll show me this…” He grabbed a stick to draw the symbols in the dirt. “The alpha and the omega.”

“Zira,” Crowley said anxiously. “You’re scaring me now. What is this? Why would I give you some cryptic warning?”

“I don’t know why!” the angel cried out, throwing up his hands. “But I know it’s the only way-”

A bang sounded from inside the cottage and Aziraphale backed away. “I have to go,” he said. “But don’t worry my darling. If you do as I say, everything will be alright. Do you understand?”

The redhead frowned in frustration. “This is stupid! You already know what happens! Why not-”

His voice faded out as he vanished, and Aziraphale hurried back into the house.

“Darling?” he called out, nearly running into the man as they collided.

“Fucking hell!” Crowley cursed, grabbing onto the blonde. “Was that who I think it was?”

“Yes!” Aziraphale hissed. “I wasn’t sure if you could exist in two places at once! I was terrified that I’d lose you again!”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley smiled. “We both know that’s not going to happen.”

“What in the world were you doing in here?” Aziraphale demanded.

“Nothing!” Crowley defended. “I just came downstairs and was looking for you.” He moved incrementally to the right, but the angel still saw the shattered glass on the floor.

“So you decided to throw my candy dish on the ground?”

“He...I mean me...ERGH! Whatever! I was taken by surprise! Backed into it when I was trying to gather my wits.” Crowley crossed his arms and huffed. Azirpahale scanned the room, noticing that he’d also knocked over a chair.

“That was on my way back from the window,” the redhead added.

“Mm.” The angel pursed his lips.

Crowley righted the chair and collapsed into it. “I remember this day,” he said mournfully. “From his perspective.”

The angel moved into his side and kissed the top of his head. “There, there, my love. All’s well that ends well, yes?”

“Of course,” Crowley sniffed. “It’s just...at the time I thought I was dead. I thought you were shacking up with some buff young stand-in.”

Aziraphale slapped playfully at his shoulder. “Still could, you know.”

“Oi!” Crowley warned teasingly. “I’m immortal now, right? Or have you forgotten? As as I recall, someone got a little overzealous during their healing miracle-”

“I got carried away!” the angel defended. “Not that I’m particularly sorry. I just wish we’d known at the time. Would have saved us both a lot of heartache. I thought one day...well, it doesn’t bear thinking about now.”

“Not so bad, being forty-eight forever,” the redhead continued. “Remarkably well-preserved, I think that’s how you put it. I can’t believe you waited til my sixtieth to say anything.”

Aziraphale sat down across from him and sighed. “I chalked it up to good genes until then. But...I have wondered,” he mused. “How much of this was Her doing, after all.”

“Mmm, the Great Plan!” Crowley said dramatically. “Suppose we owe her our gratitude.”

The blonde smiled sweetly. “I passed it along, my dear. On your ninetieth birthday. I hadn’t spoken to Her in a long time. It was overdue.”

“Speaking of,” Crowley said, standing and pulling his husband to his feet. “What about lunch?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale chuckled. “I made the most remarkable risotto! And the lamb we tried in town, do you remember? I cooked up a version of it with a little twist of my own-”

The angel’s voice faded as he walked into the kitchen, and Crowley’s eyes watered as he hugged himself around the middle. Gratitude wasn’t the word. He was certain of it. There wasn’t a word for this kind of happiness. For everything they’d been given. For a love that had lasted, and would last, forever.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out.

The redhead snapped to attention, choking back his tears. “Coming, angel!”

  
-

1971 Crowley is born

1976 Meets Azi for the first time (5) CH. 2

1981 Crucifixion, 30 AD (10)* CH.1

1986 Watches Azi do the Gavotte, 1887 AD (15)* CH. 8 (Referenced)

1988 Crush on Azi (17) CH. 2

1989 First job, dating Oliver (18) CH. 4

1992 Breakup with Oliver, birthday with friends (21) CH. 4

1992 Rome, 41 AD (21)* CH. 3

1995 C’s confession of love (24) CH. 4

1995 Arezzo, 1026 AD (24)* CH. 3

1996 Soho, 1967 AD (25)* CH. 7

1999 Tells Aziraphale about wanting to propose to his boyfriend (28) CH. 4

2000 St. James Park, 1862 AD (29)* CH. 5

2000 C and Gabriel breakup (29) CH. 6

2000 Azi and Crowley are finally together (29) CH. 6

2001 The Globe, 1601 AD (30)* CH. 3

2004 Egypt, 1450 BC (33)* CH.1

2006 Medieval times, 537 AD (35)* CH. 3

2006 C proposes to Azi (35) Second half CH. 6

2007 Azi and C wedding (36) CH. 6

2008 French Revolution, 1793 AD (37)* CH. 5

2009 The storm at sea, Unknown time period (38)* CH. 8

2011 England, 1941 AD (40)* CH. 7

2011 Azi admits he realized he loved C in 1941 (40) CH. 8

2014 South Downs, 2065 AD (43)* CH. 8

2016 Bookshop opening, 1800 AD (45)* CH. 5

2017 10 yr wedding anniversary (46) CH. 8

2018 Noah’s Ark, 3004 BC (47)* CH.1

2019 Salem Witch Trials, 1656 AD (48)* CH. 8

2019 Eden, 4000 BC (48)* CH.1

2019 South Downs, present day (48)* CH. 9

2020 Azi and C move to the South Downs (49) CH. 9

2026 C has stopped traveling CH. 9

2031 C’s 60th bday CH. 9

2065 The end. Or is it the beginning? CH. 9

  
  



End file.
